"They're not..." she mumbled, her little hand still gripping my finger tightly. "Mommy, you'll stay with me always, right?"
"Of course," I said softly, a tender ache filling my heart. "Mommy will always be with you."
"So you won't leave me? Like the princess's mommy in the fairy tales..."
"Never." I squeezed her little hand. "Mommy will never leave you, Stella. Never."
She finally closed her eyes contentedly, her breathing gradually becoming steady. I quietly closed her door and dragged my tired body toward the bedroom.
I took a shower and changed into pajamas. Then I opened my laptop. In the chat app, M's avatar was lit up, so I started chatting with her.
Me: [Just finished putting the kid to bed. I'm exhausted.]
M: [lol, being a mom isn't easy. What's wrong? I can tell from your typing speed that something's bothering you.]
I hesitated. M could always read me, even through a screen.
Me: [Something weird's been happening lately.]
M: [Tell me. Weirder than that difficult client last time?]
I took a deep breath and typed.
Me: [My studio's been getting white dahlias three days in a row this week. Every morning there's a fresh bouquet, like they were just picked. But no signature, no idea who's sending them. Doors and windows are locked tight, no one in the hallway security footage, but the flowers just appear.]
M was silent for a few seconds.
M: [Oh... so you've got a stalker pursuing you? And he's skilled—he can slip past building security and into your studio without being seen.]
Me: [Yes. It's really creepy. I feel like... like I'm being watched. If he keeps sending flowers, I'm calling the police.]
M sent a thinking emoji, then a long message.
M: [Could it be your ex who found you? That psycho rich guy is your stalker? You know how these wealthy psychos operate. They start with anonymous flowers to test your reaction, observe your routine, gather information. Then they slowly reveal themselves, trying to win you back in what they think is a romantic way. God, I've seen too many cases like this.]
My heart skipped a beat, my chest suddenly tight. Igor did know I loved whitedahlias.
But it was impossible.
Me: [Impossible. It's been five years. He's long married that woman and had kids.]
After typing this, my throat tightened. Yes, five years. Enough time for a man to marry, have children, build a new family. Enough time to forget me completely.
M: [Are you sure? Maybe he's been looking for you? Maybe that wedding never happened?]
Me: [If he wanted to find me, he would have already.]
I typed quickly, my fingers practically slamming the keyboard.
Me: [He has all the resources and connections. Five years without even a shadow—that's proof enough he never cared about me.]
Only after finishing the last word did I realize my hands were shaking.
M was silent longer than usual.
M: [Sorry, I shouldn't have reopened old wounds.]
Me: [It's fine. I'm just being too sensitive.]
