A D E L I N E

The warmth of the morning sun pressed against my skin, coaxing me from the depths of sleep. My body stirred under the soft covers, muscles stretching as I shifted onto my side. A slow sigh left my lips as my mind teetered between sleep and wakefulness, reluctant to fully leave the peaceful void of slumber.

But then—something felt different.

The crisp scent of roses invaded my senses, its fragrance oddly stronger than before. My brows furrowed, and my fingers curled around the sheets as a strange sense of familiarity settled over me.

My lashes fluttered open, and for a moment, all I saw was the hazy golden light seeping through the curtains. My bedroom was still, untouched, the only sound the distant chirping of birds outside.

And then—my breath hitched.

A single rose lay beside me on the empty side of the bed.

A fresh, deep red rose.

My chest tightened as I stared at it, my fingers gripping the sheets. The soft petals looked almost velvety, the stem still a rich green as if it had just been plucked from the garden moments ago. A rush of unease slithered down my spine, a suffocating grip of confusion and dread curling in my stomach.

I didn’t put that there.

Swallowing, I slowly pushed myself up, my pulse a slow, creeping drumbeat against my ribs. My fingers hesitated before reaching for the delicate flower, but I didn’t dare touch it just yet.

This wasn’t the first time.

My mind flickered back to the last rose—the one I found outside my front door, placed there as if it belonged to me. I had brushed it off then, convinced myself it was a mistake or a strange coincidence.

But this…

This was in my bed.

A shiver rippled through me, my breathing uneven as my gaze darted around the room. The door was still locked. The windows, closed. There was no sign of forced entry, no misplaced furniture, no disturbance in the silence.

And yet, someone had been here. Someone had entered my space, crept into my room while I was asleep—watched me as I slept.

I exhaled sharply, willing the panic clawing at my chest to stay down. My fingers finally closed around the rose, its stem cold against my skin, and I brought it closer, searching for any note, any indication of who had left it.

Nothing.

My lips parted, my heart slamming against my ribcage.

This wasn’t a coincidence.

Someone was playing a game with me.

A loud knock at the door sent a jolt through my body. I froze mid-step, my heart skipping a beat. My eyes flickered toward the rose still lying on the other side of my bed, its crimson petals stark against the white sheets. The eerie reminder of its presence made the knocking feel even more ominous.

I swallowed hard, pulling my robe tighter around me. It was too early for visitors. Daya wasn’t supposed to be here for another hour, and I wasn’t expecting anyone else.

Another knock—louder this time.

A wave of unease crawled up my spine, but I forced myself to move. My bare feet made no sound against the floor as I crept toward the door, each step heavy with hesitation. Instead of unlocking it immediately, I leaned closer, peeking through the peephole.

Relief rushed through me.

Daya stood outside, arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently.

Exhaling shakily, I unlocked the door and pulled it open.

"You took forever," she huffed, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. Her eyes scanned my face, and her brows pulled together. "What’s up with you? You look like you just saw a ghost."

I let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head. "More like woke up to one."

She narrowed her eyes. "What does that mean?"

Instead of answering, I turned and led her to my bedroom. The moment her gaze landed on the bed, her body stiffened.

"Wait…" she muttered, stepping closer. "Another one?"

I nodded, my arms tightening around myself. "It was right there when I woke up. Like before."

Daya turned to face me fully, concern darkening her features. "Okay, Addie, this isn’t normal."

A humorless chuckle escaped me. "No kidding."

She frowned. "This isn't funny. Someone's getting inside your apartment while you’re sleeping. That’s seriously messed up."

I bit my lip, staring at the rose. The same uneasy feeling that had been gnawing at me since I woke up twisted my stomach into knots. Who the hell was doing this? And why?

I reached out, hesitantly brushing my fingers against the soft petals. They felt cool beneath my fingertips, as if they had been freshly placed.

Daya crossed her arms, watching me closely. "We need to figure this out. You need to be more careful."

I nodded, but deep down, I already knew something.

Whoever was leaving these roses…

They weren’t done.

I tore my gaze away from the rose, turning back to Daya. "Okay, forget the creepy stalker for a second. What are you even doing here this early?"

Daya rolled her eyes, plopping down onto the edge of my bed. "Wow, rude. I come bearing my presence, and this is the thanks I get?"

I raised a brow, crossing my arms. "Daya."

She sighed dramatically. "Fine. Your mom called me."

That made me pause. "My mom?"

"Yep. Said she couldn’t reach you and got all dramatic about it. You know how she is."

I groaned, running a hand through my hair. "I turned my phone on silent last night. She always calls at the worst times."

Daya smirked. "Well, she figured I’d be able to get in touch with you. And she was right."

I sighed, already dreading whatever my mother wanted. "Did she say what it was about?"

"Something about you visiting her soon. She sounded… pushy."

That wasn’t surprising. My mother had a way of making everything sound urgent, even when it wasn’t. But right now, with the whole rose situation lingering in my mind, the last thing I wanted to deal with was her demands.

"I’ll call her later," I muttered, waving it off.

Daya leaned back on her elbows, glancing toward the rose again. "So… are we just ignoring the fact that some psycho is sneaking into your apartment to leave flowers? Because I feel like we shouldn’t be ignoring that."

I exhaled slowly, rubbing my temples. "What am I supposed to do? It’s not like I have any clues."

"Maybe you should get cameras."

I hesitated. It wasn’t a bad idea. But the thought of actually seeing whoever was doing this—of watching footage of someone slipping into my home while I was asleep—sent a chill down my spine.

Daya must have noticed my hesitation because she frowned. "Addie, I’m serious. This isn’t some cute secret admirer thing. This is creepy as hell."

I nodded, knowing she was right. "I’ll think about it."

She huffed but let it go. "Good. Anyway, I’m starving. You got food?"

A small smile tugged at my lips despite everything. "So that’s why you really came over."

"Duh," she said, grinning. "Now, feed me."

Shaking my head, I turned toward the kitchen, but deep down, my mind was still stuck on the rose. On the way it had been placed so carefully on the empty side of my bed.

As if someone had been there, watching me sleep.

Daya leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching me with an amused smirk as I moved around, preparing coffee.

“You know,” she started, her voice laced with mischief, “you should really consider seeing someone. A hot writer boyfriend, maybe?”

I scoffed, grabbing two mugs from the cabinet. “Oh, sure. Let me just pull a brooding poet out of thin air.”

“I’m serious, Addie,” she pressed, hopping onto the counter. “You spend way too much time locked up in this apartment, writing about dark and twisted romance instead of, you know, actually experiencing one.”

I shot her a look as I poured the coffee. “Excuse me for prioritizing my career over a mediocre dating life.”

Daya rolled her eyes. “Not every guy out there is mediocre. Just most of them.” She accepted the mug I handed her. “But come on, don’t you ever feel like you’re missing out? You write all these intense love stories, but you’ve never actually—”

“I’m not missing out,” I interrupted, lifting my mug to my lips. “I like my life the way it is.”

Daya huffed dramatically. “You say that, but I bet if some sexy, mysterious guy swept you off your feet, you’d be singing a different tune.”

I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, right. As if some dark, enigmatic stranger is just going to waltz into my life.”

My fingers tightened around the mug involuntarily. The image of the rose on my bed flashed through my mind—the second one, now resting on my nightstand.

Daya kept talking, oblivious to the way my mind drifted. “I swear, Addie, one day you’re going to fall so hard for someone, and I’m going to be the one saying ‘I told you so.’”

I forced a smirk. “I’d pay to see that day.”

But deep down, a quiet unease crept into my chest.

Because, for the first time, I wasn’t so sure I was alone in my world anymore.

After Daya left, the apartment felt eerily quiet. I sat on the edge of my bed, my fingers absentmindedly tracing the soft petals of the rose still resting on my nightstand.

The second one.

My stomach twisted as I stared at it. The first rose could’ve been a coincidence—maybe I forgot I bought it, or maybe some secret admirer at the bookstore. But two? And in my bed?

A chill crept down my spine.

I glanced at the locked door, then at the windows, reassuring myself that I was alone. But the lingering feeling—the unsettling awareness prickling at my skin—refused to fade.

With a slow inhale, I picked up the rose and brought it to my nose. The scent was rich, intoxicating, laced with something unfamiliar.

Something that didn’t belong to me.

My fingers trembled slightly as I set it back down, exhaling a shaky breath.

Maybe I was overthinking. Maybe it was nothing.

Or maybe someone had been here.

Watching.

Waiting.

Marking their presence in the most intimate way possible.

And the worst part?

I didn’t know whether to be afraid… or intrigued.

──────❀🌹❀──────