The gifts continued, small but specific. A perfectly ripe avocado, just how he liked them, appeared on the fruit bowl. A bookmark placed inside the novel on his nightstand, marking a chapter he hadn’t reached yet. Each item felt thoughtful, tailored precisely to Leo. Clara’s unease curdled into suspicion. This wasn’t random; it felt targeted.
She started observing Leo more closely. Was he being deliberately obtuse? “Leo, are you absolutely sure you aren’t buying these things and just… forgetting?” she pressed one evening. He looked hurt. “Clara, why would I lie about buying myself an avocado? I promise, it’s not me.” His denial felt solid, unwavering, making the situation even stranger.
The thought of a secret admirer bloomed, unwelcome, in Clara’s mind. An ex trying to subtly re-enter his life? Someone from work nursing a crush? The gestures felt intimate, almost proprietary. She found herself glancing over her shoulder more often, feeling watched even within the supposed sanctuary of their shared apartment. The mystery wasn’t sweet anymore; it felt invasive.