The morning air was crisp, and faint with the scent of the ocean and something blooming.
Chloe stepped out onto the porch in her slippers, her sun hat covering the brim of her face, one hand cradling a warm mug of coffee, the other holding a small watering can.
It was still early enough that the sunlight filtered through the trees in golden stripes, the kind of quiet that made her feel like the rest of the world was still asleep.
She took a slow breath and moved toward the potted plants at the edge of the porch. But then she stopped.
There, right at the foot of the door, sat a basket.
Woven with a soft grey ribbon wrapped neatly around the handle, it brimmed with fresh flowers—roses, lavender, hydrangeas—still dewy as if they had been arranged only minutes ago.
Chloe knelt to get a closer look. There was no card and no name.
