It began with a bouquet of lilies, left on my desk with a card that simply read, “For you.” No name, no clue, just flowers. Every day for a year, a new arrangement appeared—roses, sunflowers, daisies—each more beautiful than the last. I was consumed by the mystery. Who could it be? A secret admirer? An old flame?
I dreamed of romantic possibilities, but after 365 days, the flowers stopped. I was devastated until a stranger arrived with a letter: “Meet me where it all began.”
I rushed to the coffee shop where I’d met a kind stranger a year ago. There he was, holding wildflowers, waiting for me. My heart soared—until realized it wasn’t him. A friend of his stood in his place, grinning cruelly.
The entire year had been a joke, a cruel game to see how long they could keep me hooked. I had been waiting for a love that never existed. And just like that, the dream was shattered.
