THE HIDDEN MESSAGE IN THE GIFTS
It started with daisies.
A beautiful bouquet, wrapped in simple brown paper, sat on my doorstep one morning. I picked it up, confused but smiling, as I unfolded the little note attached.
*”Just a little something to brighten your day. –Sophie.”*
Sophie was my neighbor—cheerful, always kind. We weren’t close, but she always greeted me warmly whenever we crossed paths.
The next day, another surprise: a small tin of homemade cookies.
Then, a lavender-scented candle.
Each day brought something new. Each note was always the same:
*”Just because. –Sophie.”*
I started looking forward to them. In a way, her small gestures became a quiet comfort, a reminder that someone out there cared.
Then, on the sixth day, the final gift arrived.
A box of chocolates.
I smiled, shaking my head at her generosity as I opened it. Without thinking, I popped one into my mouth, savoring the rich sweetness. But as I reached for another, my fingers brushed against something beneath the last piece of chocolate.
A folded note.
I hesitated, my heart suddenly pounding in my chest.
I unfolded it and read:
*”HELP ME.”*
A chill ran through me.
I didn’t waste a second—I grabbed the older notes from the previous gifts, spreading them out on the kitchen table. My hands trembled as I inspected them, reading them over and over.
And then, I **saw it.**
The first letter of each note.
J – U – S – T
B – E – C – A – U – S – E
They didn’t spell out a message on their own. But something told me there was **more** hidden within them. I flipped each note over, desperate for another clue. That’s when I noticed faint indentations on the paper—**like someone had written on them before, but erased it.**
With a pencil, I lightly shaded over the marks. Slowly, words began to form.
*”He watches. He listens. I’m not safe.”*
My breath hitched. My stomach turned.
Something was **terribly wrong.**
I grabbed my phone and dialed **911.**
“Sophie’s in danger,” I whispered into the receiver. “And I think she’s been trying to tell me all along.”