did not instantly rebuild trust.
One evening, several weeks after Daniel came home, we sat together on the porch beneath a fading sky.
The house was quiet.
No police officers.
No ringing phones.
No flowers waiting near the door.
I finally said what had been circling in my mind.
“The bouquet was never meant for me.”
Daniel laced his fingers through mine.
“No.”
“It was meant for you.”
He nodded.
For the first time, I understood the whole message.
The flowers were not a romantic surprise from my husband.
They
