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A bouquet of white roses in a trash can | Source: AmoMama
A bouquet of white roses in a trash can | Source: AmoMama

Someone Sent Me a Bouquet of White Roses with a Note — Upon Reading It, I Tossed Them in the Trash

Rita Kumar
Sep 03, 2024
01:50 P.M.

A bouquet of white roses landed on my desk, accompanied by a chilling note that made my heart race. I broke into a cold sweat and tossed the flowers in the trash. Someone knew my secret. Who? What did they want from me?

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The day started like any other Tuesday at the office. I had my usual grande latte in one hand and was scrolling through a never-ending stream of emails with the other. That's when a delivery guy walked in, carrying the most stunning bouquet of white roses I'd ever seen. My heart raced as he made his way straight to my desk...

A woman in an office | Source: Pexels

A woman in an office | Source: Pexels

"Delivery for Rebecca," he announced, placing the bouquet right next to my keyboard.

I felt the eyes of my coworkers on me as I signed for the flowers. Jenny from accounting leaned over her cubicle, eyebrows raised.

"Secret admirer, Becca?" she teased.

I laughed it off, but inside, my mind was racing. Who could have sent these flowers? And why today of all days?

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A bouquet of white roses on a table | Source: Midjourney

A bouquet of white roses on a table | Source: Midjourney

"No idea," I replied, trying to sound casual. "Maybe it's a mistake?"

Jenny snorted. "A mistake? Come on, Becca. Someone's obviously got the hots for you."

I forced a smile, but something didn't feel right. The timing was too... convenient.

As soon as the delivery guy left, I inspected the bouquet. The roses were perfect. With pristine petals, aromatic smells, and generally just beautiful. Their scent was intoxicating, filling the air around my desk.

That's when I noticed a small, cream-colored note nestled between the blooms. My fingers trembled slightly as I plucked it out.

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A bouquet of white roses with a small note | Source: Midjourney

A bouquet of white roses with a small note | Source: Midjourney

"What does it say?" Jenny curiously called out.

"Give me a sec."

I unfolded the note, my eyes scanning the words. And just like that, I froze in my chair at seeing:

"You always wanted the spotlight. Let's see how you handle it now."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My mind went blank, then started spinning at a thousand miles an hour. Someone knew. About me. And my secret. God. Who could it be? What do they want from me?

An extremely shocked woman | Source: Midjourney

An extremely shocked woman | Source: Midjourney

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The phrase kept repeating in my head like a broken record.

"Everything okay?" Jenny's voice snapped me back to reality.

"Yeah, just... unexpected."

"What does it say?" she pressed, leaning further over her cubicle wall.

I quickly folded the note and shoved it into my drawer. "Oh, you know. Just a cheesy line. Nothing much."

An anxious woman | Source: Midjourney

An anxious woman | Source: Midjourney

Jenny's eyes narrowed. "You're being weird, Becca. Spill."

"It's nothing, really," I insisted, turning back to my computer. "I've got to finish this report before the meeting."

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For the rest of the morning, I couldn’t focus. The flowers sat there, a grim reminder that my carefully guarded secret could be exposed at any moment. Every time someone walked by my desk, I flinched, wondering if they knew.

A nervous woman | Source: Midjourney

A nervous woman | Source: Midjourney

During the team meeting, I barely heard a word my boss Karen said. My mind kept drifting to the note, to the past I'd tried so hard to leave behind.

"Rebecca? Your thoughts on this?" Karen's voice cut through my haze. I blinked, realizing everyone was staring at me.

"I... um..." I stammered, frantically trying to piece together what they'd been discussing.

Karen frowned. "Are you feeling alright? You seem distracted."

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People at a business meeting | Source: Pexels

People at a business meeting | Source: Pexels

"Just a little under the weather," I lied. "Could you repeat the question?"

As Karen repeated herself, I felt everyone's eyes on me, and I could practically feel myself sinking into the floor.

By lunchtime, I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed the flowers and the note, marched over to the break room, and dumped the whole thing in the trash. As I turned to leave, I almost ran into Emily from HR.

"Whoa there!" she said, steadying me. Her eyes darted to the trash can. "What happened to those gorgeous roses?"

A bouquet of white roses in a trash can | Source: Midjourney

A bouquet of white roses in a trash can | Source: Midjourney

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"Not really my style."

"But they are so beautiful. Are you sure—"

"I'm sure," I cut her off. "Sorry, Em. I've got a ton of work to catch up on."

As I hurried back to my desk, I could feel Emily's concerned gaze following me.

The afternoon dragged on. I stared at my computer screen, not really seeing anything. My mind kept replaying every moment from three years ago, wondering where I'd slipped up and who could have found out.

A terrified woman | Source: Midjourney

A terrified woman | Source: Midjourney

A distracting chat notification popped up on my screen. It was from Tom in IT.

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"Hey Rebecca, noticed you were having trouble with the new software earlier. Need any help?"

I groaned. The last thing I needed was someone hovering over my shoulder right now.

"Thanks, Tom. I'm good for now," I typed back quickly.

"You sure? It's no trouble. I could swing by your desk."

"Really, I'm fine. Just figuring things out on my own."

A woman using a smartphone | Source: Pexels

A woman using a smartphone | Source: Pexels

I was so lost in my thoughts that I almost missed the conversation happening at the coffee machine behind me.

"Did you see those white roses on Rebecca's desk this morning?" It was Lisa from sales.

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I froze, straining to hear the response.

"Oh yeah," Sarah from marketing replied. "I got the exact same bouquet with a creepy note last year after landing the Johnson account."

My head snapped up. What?

Side shot of a startled woman | Source: Midjourney

Side shot of a startled woman | Source: Midjourney

Sarah continued, "The note was weird too. Something about the spotlight not lasting forever."

I spun around in my chair and chimed in, "Wait, you got a similar note?"

They both looked at me, startled. Sarah nodded slowly. "Yeah, it freaked me out at first. But then I found out it was just Alison being... well, Alison."

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"Alison?" I gasped, my mind struggling to catch up.

A startled woman looking up | Source: Midjourney

A startled woman looking up | Source: Midjourney

Lisa rolled her eyes. "Yeah, Alison from digital marketing. She does this whenever someone gets something SHE WANTS. It's her twisted way of saying congratulations, I guess."

The relief that washed over me was so intense that I almost laughed out loud. It wasn't about my past at all. It was just office politics.

"So, it's not a threat?" I asked, just to be sure.

Sarah shook her head. "Nah, just Alison being petty. Why? Did you think it was something else?"

A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

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I hesitated for a moment. "I... I guess I just overreacted. It's been a stressful week."

Lisa patted my shoulder. "Don't let her get to you. She's just jealous of your promotion."

Once they were out of sight, I slumped back, feeling like a deflated balloon. The stress that had been eating at me all day finally started to let up.

But as the relief settled in, a new thought crept in: Why had I been so quick to assume the worst?

An extremely agitated woman | Source: Midjourney

An extremely agitated woman | Source: Midjourney

Just then, my phone buzzed. A text from my best friend, Mia: "Drinks tonight? You look like you could use one."

I smiled, wondering how she always seemed to know. "God, yes. Murphy's at 7?"

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"See you there," came the quick reply.

That night, as Mia and I sat in our favorite booth at Murphy's, I couldn't stop thinking about my reaction to the flowers.

"Spill it, Becca," Mia said, pushing a glass of wine toward me. "What's going on?"

Woman with a glass of wine | Source: Pexels

Woman with a glass of wine | Source: Pexels

I took a long sip before answering. "I got some flowers at work today."

Mia's eyebrows shot up. "And that's it?"

"No, it's just..." I sighed. "The note that came with them. It brought up some... memories."

"Ah," Mia nodded, understanding dawning on her face. "Mark?"

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I nodded, the name alone bringing a flood of emotions. "I thought... I thought someone had found out. That it was all going to come crashing down again."

A woman at a bar | Source: Pexels

A woman at a bar | Source: Pexels

"Becca, that was three years ago. You've moved on, haven't you?"

I stared into my wine glass, swirling the red liquid. "I thought I had, but today... it all came rushing back."

"Talk to me," Mia urged gently. "What exactly happened back then? You never told me all the details."

I took a deep breath. "I got involved with Mark. He was married, Mia. God, I was so stupid."

A woman holding a wine glass | Source: Pexels

A woman holding a wine glass | Source: Pexels

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"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself. We all make mistakes."

"This was a big one," I added. "We ended things before it got too messy, but... his wife found out."

Mia's eyes widened. "Oh, Becca..."

"It gets worse. She posted pictures of me online. With captions about me wanting the spotlight... that I was a freaking homewrecker. God, Mia, they were horrible."

A distressed woman in a bar | Source: Pexels

A distressed woman in a bar | Source: Pexels

She reached across the table, squeezing my hand. "Becca, that was three years ago. You've moved on. You've built a great life for yourself."

"I know, I know. But for a moment there, it all felt so fresh. Like I was right back in that mess."

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"But you're not. You're here, you're successful, and you're stronger than you were then, darling. Don't let the ghost of a mistake haunt you forever."

An upset woman | Source: Pexels

An upset woman | Source: Pexels

"You're right. It's time to let it go."

"Damn straight," Mia grinned, raising her glass. "To moving forward."

I clinked my glass against hers, feeling lighter than I had all day. "To moving forward."

The next morning, I walked into the office and as I rounded the corner to my desk, I nearly collided with Alison.

A woman drinking wine | Source: Pexels

A woman drinking wine | Source: Pexels

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"Oh! Rebecca," she said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Congratulations on the promotion."

I looked at her, really looked at her, and felt a wave of pity. "Thanks, Alison."

As I watched her go, I realized something. The spotlight might come with its challenges, but I was stronger than the shadows of my past. And that was a truth Alison could never touch.

A woman walking away | Source: Pexels

A woman walking away | Source: Pexels

As I sat down at my desk, opened my laptop, and got to work, a new email popped up. It was from Karen.

"Great job in yesterday's meeting, Rebecca. Your insight on the Johnson account was spot on. Keep up the good work."

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I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. This was my life now, challenges, successes, and all. And I was ready for whatever came next.

As for Alison, if she wants to harbor resentment, that's her choice. I'm not going to waste my time on it. I have better things to do.

A young woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

A young woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

Here's another story: A casual visit to my best friend's house revealed a heartbreaking truth about my wife.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided "as is," and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

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