I couldn’t explain why.
I walked into the hallway where the bouquet still sat beside the nurses’ desk, waiting to be thrown away.
“Can I see it one more time?” I asked.
The nurse nodded.
As I lifted the black ribbon, something metallic slipped into my palm.
A tiny silver baby carriage charm.
My heart stopped.
On the back was a single engraved date.
June 18.
Nine years ago.
I stared at it until the numbers blurred.
Leon frowned.
“What is it?”
I couldn’t answer.
Because I already knew.
Years earlier, I’d seen that exact charm hanging from another woman’s bracelet.
Sheila.
She never took it off. Whenever anyone talked about children, she’d spin it around her wrist and smile.
One afternoon, she’d laughed and said, “That’s for my future daughter.”
The date engraved on the back wasn’t random.
It was the day Leon ended their relationship.
Leon looked at me.
“You recognize it.”
I nodded.
“I think I know who sent the flowers.”
Before either of us could say another word, my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Several long seconds passed.
Then a calm female voice spoke.
“Hi, Annalise.”
Every muscle in my body locked.
“I bet you never expected to hear from me.”
My throat tightened.
“Sheila.”
She laughed softly.
“You remembered.”
“What do you want?”
“I just wanted to congratulate you.”
Her voice remained warm, almost pleasant.
“You finally got everything that belonged to me.”
The line went dead.
Leon took the phone from my shaking hand.
“Was it her?”
“Yes.”
He looked at the charm again.
“I spent nine years believing silence meant she’d finally let us go.”
“So did I.”
Neither of us slept much that night.
The following morning, we filed a police report before leaving the hospital.
The officer listened patiently.
“Did she threaten you directly?”
“No.”
“Did she mention harming you or the baby?”
“No.”
He sighed.
“I understand why you’re frightened.”
“But?”
“Funeral flowers are disturbing, the phone call is disturbing, but neither is a crime by itself.”
He advised us to keep every message, photograph every delivery, and contact them immediately if the behavior escalated.
It wasn’t the answer I wanted.
Once we arrived home, Leon checked every door and window twice before carrying our daughter inside.
The house should have felt comforting.
Instead, every unfamiliar sound made me jump.
That evening, Martha stopped by with dinner. She kissed the baby and frowned when she saw our faces.
