Roses are red, violets are blue… or so we thought.

Colors shift. Meanings twist. Even beauty can lie.

Sophia never questions the roses that begin appearing in quiet, delicate shades — Each one feels like a message wrapped in petals, a small comfort she doesn't dare look at too closely .

But then a deeper shade of rose appears … that doesn't feel like the others.

She tells herself:

"It's nothing"

"She's imagining it."

"She's safe."

But can someone really know her routine and sneak into her life without her knowledge?

Roses keep coming, but who are they from?

An admirer?

A Stalker?

Or someone who is dangerous enough to be both?