The first bouquet arrived on a random Tuesday. By the fifth day, my husband was checking my phone. By the tenth, he was sleeping on the couch. I had no idea who was sending these romantic gifts, but I was determined to find out before they destroyed my marriage.
Hi, guys!
I never thought I’d find myself pouring my heart out to strangers on the internet, but when your life turns into a twisted Hallmark movie overnight, you need somewhere to vent.
So here I am, still processing the wildest month of my three-year marriage.
A bouquet of tulips | Source: Unsplash
Jeremy and I have been married for three years now. We met at a friend’s barbecue, bonded over our shared love of true crime podcasts, and the rest was history.
To be honest, our life together isn’t perfect.
We bicker about whose turn it is to unload the dishwasher, and sometimes Netflix’s “Are you still watching?” feels like judgment. But I’ve always known two things for certain.
He’s loyal to his core, and he would never intentionally hurt me.
That’s what I believed with my whole heart.
A man looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney
Our apartment isn’t fancy, but we’ve made it ours. My nursing schedule and his contractor hours mean we treasure our evenings together. We love having simple dinners and discussing our plans of buying our dream house one day.
Then there’s Patricia, my mother-in-law. The woman has perfected the art of the backhanded compliment.
“Oh Lauren, that top is so brave for your body type,” or “Your meatloaf is certainly… creative.”
We don’t exactly get along, but I’ve maintained my distance and kept things civil. Jeremy is her only child, and I respect that bond, even when she drives me crazy.
An older woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
She’s changed a lot since her husband passed away last year. More clingy with Jeremy, more critical of me.
She calls him daily, stops by unannounced, and recently started suggesting we move into her “big empty house” to “keep her company.”
Jeremy always deflects these requests gently, but I can see how they wear on him.
“She’s just lonely,” he’d say after she left. “She doesn’t mean anything by it.”
A worried man | Source: Midjourney
Despite the Patricia situation, everything in my life was going well.
I’d recently been promoted at the hospital, Jeremy and I were saving for a down payment on a house, and we were even talking about starting a family in the next year or so.
Then the flowers started coming.
It began subtly. A single bouquet of red roses on a Tuesday. No return address, just a sleek card that read, To Lauren, You looked beautiful yesterday. Always thinking of you.
I laughed it off. Probably a mix-up, right?
I showed Jeremy when he got home.
A bouquet of red roses | Source: Unsplash
“Secret admirer?” he teased, sniffing the roses. “Should I be jealous?”
“Clearly someone sent these to the wrong Lauren,” I said, putting them in water anyway because, well, free flowers.
Except… it kept happening.
Day after day. Orchids. Lilies. Deep burgundy tulips. Every bouquet more romantic than the last and always addressed to me.
Lauren—I dream about you.
I can’t stop remembering how soft your skin felt, Lauren.
Lauren, when he doesn’t see your worth, I will.
Each card more intimate than the last. Each message more unsettling. No signature, just increasingly personal notes that made my skin crawl.
A folded paper on a table | Source: Midjourney
“Do you have any idea who’s sending these?” Jeremy asked after the fourth delivery. I could see the worry in his eyes.
“None,” I said honestly. “I’ve been wracking my brain, but I can’t think of anyone who would do this.”
“Maybe a patient from the hospital?” he suggested. “Someone who got the wrong idea?”
A man talking to his wife | Source: Midjourney
I shook my head. “I’m always professional, and besides, I don’t give out our home address.”
By the sixth day, the deliveries were getting more elaborate.
And now, Jeremy just went quiet whenever the doorbell rang. He wasn’t liking the flowers at all.
“You really don’t know who’s sending these?” he asked that night, watching me read the latest card with a strange expression on his face.
“I swear I don’t,” I insisted. “If I did, I’d tell them to stop.”
He nodded, but I could feel something shifting between us. A seed of doubt being planted.
At that point, I started dreading the sound of the doorbell.
A person ringing a doorbell | Source: Pexels
What had seemed like a harmless mistake was quickly becoming something darker. Something calculated.
And whoever was sending these flowers wasn’t just trying to woo me. They were trying to drive a wedge between my husband and me.
I just had no idea how successful they were about to be until Jeremy accused me of cheating.
An angry man | Source: Midjourney
We were having dinner when the doorbell rang. Another bouquet, this time with a card that read, Lauren, I count the hours until I can hold you again.
When I returned to the table, Jeremy had pushed his food away.
“Just tell me who he is,” he said quietly.
I blinked. “What?”
“The guy. The one sending these.” His voice was tight. “I’d rather know than be made a fool of.”
I was blindsided.
“Jeremy,” I said, trying to hold back tears, “I have no idea who’s sending these.”
He didn’t believe me. I could see it in his eyes. The doubt, the hurt, and the suspicion.
A close-up shot of a man’s eyes | Source: Unsplash
“I may not be rich or poetic, but I thought I was enough for you,” he snapped.
That one hurt.
“You are enough,” I insisted. “More than enough. These flowers mean nothing to me.”
“Then why keep them?” he demanded. “Why put them in vases and display them if they’re nothing?”
I didn’t have a good answer. I’d kept them because… well, because they were flowers. Because throwing them away seemed wasteful.
But through his eyes, I suddenly saw how it looked.
A close-up shot of roses in a vase | Source: Pexels
The distance between us grew fast. Jeremy started sleeping on the couch. I caught him checking my phone when he thought I wasn’t looking. When I came home late from a shift, he’d ask for details about where I’d been.
I felt like I was being punished for a crime I didn’t commit.
“I’m not cheating on you,” I told him one night. “I love you. Only you.”
He just sighed and turned away.
The flowers kept coming. Daily reminders of the wedge being driven between us. I started refusing deliveries, but they’d just leave them on the doorstep.
A bouquet on a doorstep | Source: Midjourney
But something didn’t sit right with me. The wording on the notes… it wasn’t just romantic. It was targeted.
Like whoever wrote them wanted to stir the pot.
And the handwriting?
Weirdly familiar.
So, I saved every card. Stashed them in a drawer. Compared them to birthday cards we had at home. And then it hit me.
It was Patricia’s handwriting.
But still… I needed to be sure. So, I tested it.
I called the florist who had delivered the last bouquet.
A florist standing at a table, making a bouquet | Source: Pexels
“Hi there,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual. “This is Lauren, and I’m calling to confirm the standing order being delivered to my address.”
“Oh, yes ma’am,” the cheerful voice replied. “The daily bouquet arrangement. It’s under Patricia. Did you want to update anything?”
“The billing address, maybe?” I asked, heart pounding.
“Let me check… yes, it’s set to the same Patricia at Oak Avenue. Is that correct?”
Patricia’s address. Patricia’s credit card.
Boom.
A woman sitting in an armchair | Source: Midjourney
I wasn’t just angry. I was shaking.
She was trying to make Jeremy think I was cheating so he’d leave me and move in with her. She’d made no secret of wanting him “back home” after his dad passed.
What kind of woman tries to sabotage her own son’s marriage?
I could’ve told Jeremy right then, but I wanted Patricia to feel what I felt. So, I played along and planned my little revenge.
A woman writing | Source: Pexels
I called the florist and upped the standing order. I made sure Patricia would be footing the bill for 12 dozen red roses to be delivered to her own house, every day for two weeks.
Each with a personalized message from “her secret admirer.”
Here are a few of my favorites:
Patricia, the way you stirred your coffee at brunch last week? Unforgettable.
I can’t wait to see you in that red blouse again.
Don’t tell Jeremy. He’d never understand our passion.
Once she received the first few of those flowers and notes, she FREAKED OUT.
A surprised woman | Source: Midjourney
Three days in, she stormed into our house with a bouquet. She looked like she was about to explode.
“Lauren! Someone’s harassing me. Some pervert is sending me these disgusting flowers!”
“Oh no. That sounds awful,” I said. “Do you think Jeremy would believe you, though? I mean… flowers? That’s not really proof of anything.”
She looked like she’d swallowed a lemon.
Jeremy walked in just in time to hear that last part.
“What’s going on?” he asked, confused.
A man standing in the living room | Source: Midjourney
Before Patricia could say anything, I quickly pulled out the drawer full of my romantic flower cards and placed them next to the cards she showed me.
And then I turned to Jeremy.
“Your mom wrote these. Every one of them. She’s been trying to make you think I’m cheating.”
He stared between us, eyes wide.
“Mom?” he asked, stunned.
“No… I-I mean I did… but,” Patricia stammered. “I-I just wanted what’s best for you, Jeremy! She’s changed you! She doesn’t belong in our family!”
A scared woman | Source: Midjourney
Jeremy looked at me. At the pain in my eyes. At the hurt I’d been swallowing for weeks.
And then he said the words I’ll never forget.
“No, Mom,” he began. “I’m sorry, but it’s you who doesn’t belong in our family.”
She tried to explain and defend herself, but he told her to leave immediately.
That was the last time I saw her. We haven’t spoken to her since.
The flowers stopped, of course. But now? Every time a bouquet arrives from Jeremy, it means something real.
A close-up shot of a bouquet | Source: Pexels
He even got one card engraved with the words, To Lauren—who never needed flowers to prove her love. I’m sorry. Thank you for showing me the truth.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this whole mess, it’s that you have to trust your gut and stand up for yourself, even when the people trying to tear you down are family. I could have just thrown away those flowers and let my marriage crumble, but instead, I chose to investigate, to fight back, and to expose the truth.
And I’m glad I did that.
If you enjoyed reading this story, here’s another one you might like: I’d always been taught to respect adults, but nobody had taught me what to do when adults didn’t respect each other. When I heard my mom’s boss making fun of her thrift store clothes, I decided some lessons couldn’t wait for adulthood.
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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