Then, suddenly—
A knock at the door.
It was sharp. Unexpected.
My stomach tightened.
I walked to the door and opened it slowly.
A man stood there.
He was middle-aged, wearing a dark coat, his expression neutral but oddly respectful. He didn’t smile.
He didn’t introduce himself.
He simply cleared his throat and said,
“Good morning. I’m here for Thomas.”
My heart skipped.
“He asked me to deliver this to his wife… after his death.”
My hands began to tremble.
Behind me, I heard my grandmother’s footsteps.
She came to the door quickly, her voice soft but urgent.
“Who is it?”
The man didn’t answer her directly.
Instead, he held out a bouquet of flowers.
Fresh. Beautiful. Carefully arranged.
Just like always.
And in his other hand—
An envelope.
My grandmother’s breath caught.
She took both with shaking hands.
The man gave a slight nod, then turned and walked away without another word.
