Shaking my head, I tugged at the small bow holding the cellophane foil in place and watched as it came apart so I could reach in and grab the small basket. The whole thing even smelled like the café. Warm, homey, like herbal tea and sugar. Well, the two packages of loose tea inside might be responsible for the herbal smell.
I carefully grabbed one and read the label. A “get better soon” custom blend for stomach aches.
Wait… did custom blend mean my stalker had asked someone to make the blend specifically? Or did they sell these? Ugh. I’d have to find out.
I reached for the second package and snorted a laugh. Inner Peace.
Yeah, thank you very much, my stalker. You know what would give me peace? If I could stop having to worry about a fucking weirdo stalking me.
Still, the tea smelled good. A little sweet, a little spicy, with a bit of warmth.
Perfect. Now my stalker not only knew what tea was good for me, but he also knew what kinds I might actually like when I wasn’t a slave to my own finicky stomach.
The last items in the small basket were a mug and a small sieve for the loose tea. At least my stalker was thoughtful, because I didn’t have one. If it weren’t for my grandma, I probably wouldn’t even know what the small silver thing was.
Taking out the mug, I realized there was a note for me after all, rolled up and placed in it.
Something inside me tightened. My fingers trembled as I grabbed it. The paper had a bit of weight to it, not flimsy at all. A bit like one of those expensive letter papers no one but my grandma’s generation used.
Dear Finn,
Thank you for following my advice and talking to your regular doctor. It’s good to see you slowly getting your color back. Please keep up with your checkups so as not to endanger your recovery.
I got you a little gift basket. I know I already provided tea, but this one is superior by far to anything I could’ve gotten from the grocery store.
I can’t wait to check your iron levels to make sure they increase properly.
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
I turned my head, searching for cameras inside my apartment, suddenly feeling as if someone was watching me.
There were none—of course, there were none—how would they have gotten here? But it felt awful.
He couldn’t wait to check my iron levels? What was that supposed to mean?
Wrapping my arms around my middle, I slowly got up and walked over to the window and looked outside. The street below was busy, with people walking by and cars stuck in traffic. No one was looking up; no one appeared to be watching me.
But someone was.
And I’d been kidding myself when I’d thought my stalker might actually not be that bad a guy.
Yes, ordering groceries was kind of nice. Having someone worry about my health was nice, too. And the gift basket? Almost thoughtful.
But that note? Creepy.
Shaking my head, I gathered the contents of the basket and banished them to the furthest corner of my cupboard.
I would not be drinking his tea.
This needed to stop.
And the first step was setting up boundaries.
No more gifts. No more groceries.
I wouldn’t let myself be bought until I gave in and let that creep do whatever weird medical stuff he was apparently fantasizing about.
This stopped now.
