Two days passed with a basket of pastries sitting on her table, untouched.
She had planned to throw them away. She intended to do it the morning after Audrey asked about them. At one point, she had almost convinced herself to eat one, just to make her lie true.
But something held her back. A stubborn voice that refused to let go of Rosilyn's warning, telling her to be careful.
That morning, as Alina watered the flowers on her table, a few roses and lavender, she had picked from the garden herself, something caught her attention.
The flower petals were black.
It wasn't the brown of wilting flowers but black as if they had been burned. She touched a petal. It immediately crumbled under her fingers, turning to ash that stained her skin grey.
The flowers had been fresh yesterday. And now they weren't just dead but destroyed.
Her gaze shifted to the basket beside them. The pastries were still untouched. She lifted the cover, leaned close, and smelled them.
