The next morning, I woke with a heavy heart. The air in the house felt thick, pressing down on me like an unseen weight. Heaven was still asleep, her small body curled in the center of her bed, her breathing soft and steady. Normally, the sight would calm me, but not today. Something was wrong, though I couldn't name it.
I moved through the morning in a fog. The eggs burned, the toast was overdone, and even Heaven's favorite cereal tasted stale. The coffee was bitter, no matter how much sugar I added. Everything felt off, like the world itself had shifted slightly out of place.
My mind kept replaying the fire at the shop. The news report. The image of the red rose spray-painted on my shop door. "ILY" scrawled beside it in purple, the heart drawn so carefully it felt mocking. It was more than graffiti. It was a message.
But who had left it? And why?
After breakfast, I dropped Heaven at daycare. She waved as she ran off, her laughter echoing faintly behind me. I wanted to feel reassured, but the unease wouldn't let go.
At the shop, My employee, Carla greeted me with her usual smile. "Everything's fine," she said when I asked if anything strange had happened. But her eyes betrayed her. She glanced over her shoulder, just for a moment, as if expecting someone—or something—to appear.
"Let me know if you notice anything," I told her, my voice more forceful than I intended. Carla nodded, but her unease lingered in the air long after she left.
The rest of the day crawled by. The sensation of being watched clung to me, making my skin prickle. Every time I turned around, I saw nothing, yet the feeling remained, heavy and insistent.
By evening, I couldn't shake the tension and decided to return to the shop. I hoped the familiar routine would steady me. The little bell above the door jingled as I entered, and the scent of fresh flowers greeted me. For a moment, I let myself breathe.
Then I saw it.
At the far end of the shop, near the back window, a bouquet sat on a small table. It hadn't been there earlier.
A dozen deep red roses were arranged in a perfect circle, their petals lush and dark. In the center stood a single black rose. Its petals curled inward, sharp and unnatural, as though it didn't belong. My stomach twisted at the sight.
The door creaked behind me. I spun around, but no one was there. The bell jingled softly, as if it had been brushed by unseen hands.
Turning back to the bouquet, I hesitated. My instincts screamed at me to leave, but I couldn't. Slowly, I reached out and touched the black rose. Its petals were soft, velvet, and wet.
I pulled my hand back, my breath catching. My fingertips were streaked with red. Blood.
Before I could react, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I snatched it up and pressed it to my ear without checking the caller ID.
"Delilah," a voice rasped. It wasn't Avery. It was deeper, colder. "I love you."
The line went dead.
I turned back to the bouquet, my heart hammering in my chest. The black rose was gone.
Grabbing the bouquet, I locked the shop and left, the key trembling in my hand. The streets were eerily still as I walked to my car. As I climbed inside and started the engine, I glanced in the rearview mirror.
A figure stood just beyond the reach of the streetlights, watching me.
I whipped my head around, but the space was empty.
The drive home was a blur. That night, as I tucked Heaven into bed, I tried to shake the feeling that the walls were closing in. She looked so peaceful, her tiny face soft with sleep.
But then I saw it.
A thin, clean cut ran across her neck, crusted with dried blood. It wasn't deep, but it was deliberate.
"Deep enough to use to paint a rose," I whispered, horror settling in my chest.
Someone had hurt her. Someone had sent a message.
I stared out the window at the empty streets below. The silence pressed in around me.
This wasn't a nightmare. This was real.
And it was coming for me.
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