Blood in the Petals

The morning felt wrong from the moment Claire opened her eyes.

The sky was blue, falsely cheerful, and birds chirped too loudly outside her window — but Nina was gone. The bed was still warm on her side, the sheets tangled as if she'd left in a hurry. Claire reached out instinctively, her fingers grazing only fabric and silence.

Then she noticed it:Her phone, flashing. Three missed calls. All from Veronica.

And one message.From Nina.

"I need to talk to her myself. Don't follow me."

Claire sat up slowly. Her chest tightened with dread.

"She went to her."

Nina stood on Veronica's doorstep, fists clenched at her sides. The scent of roses lingered in the air, heady and sharp — but there was something off about it, something metallic underneath.

The door opened before she knocked.

Veronica, barefoot, wearing a silk robe that barely covered her thighs. Her hair was damp. Her lips glossed like she'd been expecting someone — and that someone wasn't Nina.

"Well, this is brave," Veronica said.

Nina pushed past her into the foyer, her voice trembling. "What do you want from Claire?"

Veronica smiled. "Want? My darling, she wants me. That's the problem."

"She doesn't."

"Then why does she answer when I call?" Veronica leaned in, her breath sweet with wine. "Why does she tremble when I touch her?"

Nina's jaw clenched. "Because you confuse her. You feed on her guilt."

Veronica narrowed her eyes, stepping closer. "You think you've saved her? You, with your soft voice and morning coffee? You think Claire was ever made for peace?"

"Maybe not," Nina said, tears brimming. "But I love her anyway."

Veronica paused.

That word hit like a slap across the cheek. Love. It echoed off the high ceilings, bounced through the rooms like a ghost neither woman wanted to face.

Then Veronica reached forward and placed a hand lightly on Nina's chest. "You love her," she said softly. "And she still dreams of me."

Nina stepped back, fists shaking. "You're poison."

"And poison, darling," Veronica whispered, "is unforgettable."

Claire drove like the steering wheel was a lifeline.Red light. Stop sign. None of it registered.Her chest pounded, panic rising.

She wasn't afraid of Nina being hurt.She was afraid Nina would walk away.

When she pulled up to Veronica's house, she found them both standing outside — facing one another like two halves of a storm. Veronica smirking. Nina broken but upright.

And for the first time, Claire saw it clearly:

They weren't fighting over her.They were fighting over who she used to be… and who she might become.

Gloria sat in her kitchen, staring at the photograph of Evelyn, herself, and Claire's mother.

She flipped it over.A date. A location. A single phrase scribbled in ink:

"The garden always remembers."

Her blood ran cold.

It wasn't metaphorical.It was literal.

Gloria grabbed her coat.

Evelyn was already in the garden — pruning orchids, smiling.

When Gloria arrived, Evelyn didn't look surprised.

"Looking for something?" she asked, gloved hands stained green and red.

"I know what's buried here."

Evelyn chuckled. "You think you do."

"You killed her," Gloria hissed.

"She killed herself. I just helped her make up her mind."

Gloria reached into her bag, pulled out a small recorder. "I'm going to the police."

Evelyn didn't flinch. "They won't believe you. Not with what you've done."

Gloria froze.

Evelyn plucked a rose, let a thorn drag across her finger.

"I keep everything, Gloria," she whispered. "Secrets. Sins. Roots."

Blood fell into the petals.

Back at Veronica's, Claire spoke.

"I've made mistakes," she said, her voice raw. "With both of you."

Nina turned away.

Veronica watched her.

"But I'm not running anymore," Claire added.

She stepped forward. Not to Veronica.

To Nina.

"I choose you."

Nina trembled. "Then prove it. Cut her off. Burn it all down."

Claire looked at Veronica.

Veronica whispered, "Go ahead. But don't pretend you won't miss me."

Claire leaned in, inches from her lips.

Then whispered, "Not enough to lose her."

And walked away.