No Bouquets Tonight

Akari had a dance performance and film shooting scheduled. She spent her morning radiating for her prerecorded performance and devoting her feelings in her romance scenes. 

There were still a few more hours before she was scheduled to finish her day, but Akari had no intention of following her schedule. She started to act unwell, just enough to trick her staff into letting her go home early.

She quickly went back to her apartment and started packing. She knew her apartment and car were compromised. She spent the rest of her day in disguise, traveling by public transport to the other side of the city, to her spare apartment and car.

When her career started to take off, she prepared a second home and car just in case her main home was leaked to the public. However, she never calculated for a stalker, but nonetheless her preparations came in handy.

She unpacked the bags she had brought with her. Clothes, toiletries, folders of contracts and personal documents she didn't feel safe leaving behind. 

Once she was unpacked, she went to the bank. She withdrew more cash than she had ever done before, tucking the bills neatly into an envelope and sealing it with trembling hands. If they want money, I'll give it to them. Quietly. Cleanly. Quickly.

Back at her apartment, she laid everything out on her table - the notes, the envelopes, the picture, the ribbons she kept. It wasn't much to go off but there had to be something to connect all of this.

One by one she typed the names from her past into her computer search bar - classmates, neighbors, family coworkers. She had families of their own now. Some were successful. Some already passed away. Some had disappeared completely. None seemed connected.

Then, hesitantly, she typed her parents' names.

Nothing. No obituaries. No arrests. No trace at all. 

Next, her hometown. She hadn't seen it in twelve years - the tiny coastal town that smelled like salt and iron, the place she'd buried long before her fame.

The headlines showed new restaurants, a new factory, the annual festivals held there. No names she recognized. No clues.

Akari leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes. The city behind her curtains glowed faintly.

She took a pen and began writing a list of suspects and possible connections. The list was short. Too short. A handful of names from a past she thought she had erased. She researched each one, digging for any detail that could link them to the messages and flowers. Nothing. Dead ends and silence. 

Akari thought long and hard about the people from her past and she finally concluded. Only one person could potentially know everything about her. Everything she wanted buried. This person was the only one that could possibly uncover it. But no matter how she searched, nothing came up.

When she finally looked up, hours had passed. The room was dark except for her computers light, blue and cold against her face.

There was no bouquet today.

For the first time in days, there were no flowers.

And somehow, that terrified her more.

-

The next day, Akari had vocal lessons and then proceeded to make up for missing the filming from the day before. The shooting ran late into the night. 

By the time Akari returned to her apartment, all she wanted to do is curl up and sleep, but her stomach had other plans. 

She made her way over to her fridge only to realize she forgot to prepare anything besides bottled water. She couldn't believe she had been so careless.

Akari put on her casual disguise of glasses to hide her contactless eyes, tying her hair up to hide under a hat and hood, using makeup to put freckles on her face, and a face mask.

-

The streets were slick with rain reflecting the convenience store's neon sign in broken colors. Akari adjusted her mask and cap as she stepped outside, the thin plastic bag rustling with instant noodles and bottled tea. It was nearly midnight - the kind of hour where the city held its breath.

Her shoes echoed softly on the wet pavement as she kept her head down.

Then came another sound.

Footsteps.

At first, she thought it was just the echo of her own, but the rhythm was wrong - a half beat off, heavier, and following even when she turned the corner.

Her pulse quickened. She clutched the plastic bag tighter.

She glanced back. A man, maybe late twenties, was walking behind her, hands in his pockets, hood pulled up, draped in black. Not close enough to be obvious. But close enough to make her skin crawl. 

She quickened her pace.

So did he.

Akari's mind raced. He found me. He really does know. The lack of a bouquet, the silence, the stillness. This is it...

Akari turned into the side street that led to her apartment, heart pounding in her ears. She reached into the plastic bag, grasping at the bottle of pepper spray she just started carrying around. She could already see tomorrow's headlines - 'Idol Attacked in Quiet Neighborhood.'

"Wait!-" A voice, low, hurried.

Akari spun around, spray raised.

"Whoa! Please don't!-" The man raised his hands in defense, stepping back quickly out of the street lamps light. His hood slipped down, revealing his face half shadowed by the night. Brown hair still damp from the rain, sharp eyes that looked startled, not predatory.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to scare you." His voice was shy and fast. "You dropped this..."

The man reached into his pocket and held up a small object - her wallet.

Akari blinked, her heartbeat still erratic. Sure enough, the side pocket of her tote hung open.

Akari didn't lower the spray. "You were following me."

"I was trying to catch up." His tone was careful and gentle now. "I tried to call out to you, but you didn't hear me. You dropped your wallet outside the store."

Akari stared at him, trying to read him. Too calm? Too prepared? Too rehearsed? Or genuine?

"Thanks..." She finally said, reaching for her wallet, her hand barely brushing his. His fingers were cold. His eyes flickered toward her mask, her cap - lingering a fraction too long. Recognition? Curiosity? Or something sinister?

"No problem." He said softly. "You should be careful around here. Not the safest area for someone to walk alone."

The man turned to leave, then hesitated. "Sorry again. I didn't mean to frighten you."

Akari watch the man finally turn to leave and disappear around the corner.

Back in her apartment, Akari locked every door twice. She checked the hallway camera feed on her phone. Nothing - no flowers, no messages. 

Akari went to empty her bag and noticed something slightly sticking out of her wallet. She opened it.

Inside, tucked between her cards, was a folded piece of paper - not hers.

Be careful who follows. Written in the same neat handwriting as the notes before.

Her stomach dropped.

The man's half shadowed face flashed in her mind - the dark eyes, the calm voice, the way he said, "not the safest area."

Who was he? A stranger? A warning? A coincidence? 

No.

"It was him..." Akari knew there was a possibility this could be a coincidence, and this person might've just been there at the right place and right time, but deep down she felt sure in her heart that this was who was messing with her.

Akari tried her best to rewind her memory to see the man's face, but he didn't look or sound familiar in any way. She concluded that this man was working for someone. No matter how gentle and genuine he made his voice, it was still too rehearsed. "There's someone else." 

Another day ended with no bouquet, but Akari was left with something else.