He tore open the small card attached to the flowers, his heart pounding wildly. Inside was only a short, handwritten note—warm and affectionate, with no signature at all. His mind spun with endless questions. Was this from an old friend? A secret admirer? Had she been meeting someone behind his back? The timing of the flowers felt impossibly suspicious and pointed.
He called the local florist shop immediately to ask about the order. They told him a man had placed the bouquet order and hadn’t left any extra personal details. But their simple explanation did nothing to calm his racing mind. If anything, the mysterious flowers felt like a hidden clue he couldn’t decipher.
He imagined all sorts of terrible scenarios: Clara planning something secretive, receiving hidden messages from someone, sneaking off to secret meetings. Every new thought was more unnerving than the last. His fears wove together into a tangled web, making him connect every unrelated detail into something sinister.
