Some friends.
She kept her head down and walked past, keys already in hand.
As she reached her car, something caught her eye.
A flash of white beneath the windshield wiper.
Her steps faltered.
Tucked carefully against the glass was a single lily. Fresh. Perfect. And folded beneath it—a small note.
Her heart jumped into her throat.
She glanced around the lot. Cars. People. No one watching. No one close enough to have just placed it there.
She slid the note free with trembling fingers.
“You’re so strong, Becs.
Remember who you are and where you come from”
Her breath hitched.
No signature.
No explanation.
Flabbergasted, she turned in a slow circle, scanning faces, rows of cars, shadows between light poles.
Nothing.
A chill crept up her spine.
She moved quickly then unlocking the car, sliding inside, locking the doors the second she was in. The lily and the note rested on the passenger seat like they belonged there. Like they’d been waiting.
She pulled out of the lot, hands tight on the wheel.
Her mind raced.
Who’s leaving me these flowers?
Who knows where I go?
Who calls methat?
The road blurred as her thoughts tangled.
By the time she reached home, one thing was painfully clear:
She wasn’t as alone as she thought.
And somehow… that scared her more than being by herself ever had.
Becca stood in the doorway of her kitchen longer than she needed to.
The house was warm, lights low, groceries half put away like she’d lost interest halfway through living. She set the bags down and leaned against the counter, eyes drifting to the small cluster of lilies resting near the sink.
The newest one joined the others.
