An older woman answered when I knocked, her voice calm and kind. “He’s not doing anything wrong,” she said gently. Inside, I saw Dan reading aloud beside a hospital bed. Lying there was Erika, pale and frail, holding a teddy bear. Her mother explained that after a serious accident, Erika had lost most of her memory and often asked for Dan, her childhood friend. The flowers, she said, were from her own garden — a gift Dan brought home each week after visiting.

I felt tears sting my eyes as the truth settled in. Dan hadn’t been hiding betrayal — he’d been hiding compassion. The note was just a reminder for his next visit. Now, I often go with him, bringing cookies and company. Watching him read to Erika reminded me that love isn’t always about grand gestures. Sometimes, it’s about kindness done quietly, loyalty that expects nothing in return, and flowers that mean far more than they seem.