Lies in the Order

On a weekend afternoon, sunlight slanted across the sofa. I curled up in the corner, scrolling through my cell phone, my finger accidentally tapping on Mike Collins's takeaway platform annual report. "Look at how many takeout orders this guy placed in a year, and it's funny how he always says he's a great cook." I muttered to the empty room, fingers swiping the screen, but the smile on my face slowly faded. The report was packed with orders—nearly thirty deliveries all headed to the exact same address, not in our neighborhood. I zoomed in on the address, quietly repeating the name of the unfamiliar neighborhood, a strange heaviness sinking in my chest. Looking at the delivery times again, almost all of them were on nights when I was working late or on a business trip. Most deliveries happened between 10 p.m. and midnight, so regular it was like a preset program. My hand holding the cell phone started to go cold; Mike Collins said he was working late at the office on those nights. "No way, he must have been ordering for a colleague." I bit my lip and muttered to myself, trying to shake off the unease deep in my heart. But I immediately checked the chat history with his colleagues. On those days, Mike's teammates were clearly all on business trips out of town, not even missing team events. That excuse just doesn't hold water. Suspicion wrapped around my heart like vines, tightening with every moment. I took a deep breath—I had to find a way to confirm this. I logged out of the takeaway platform and opened the app for a flower shop I frequently ordered from. I chose a bouquet of red roses, addressed to Mike Collins, copying the exact address from that unfamiliar neighborhood. In the remarks section, after long hesitation, I typed: "Happy Anniversary, waiting for you to come back." Once the order was placed, I stared intently at the delivery progress bar, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst through my ribs. Half an hour later, a "Delivered" notification appeared, accompanied by a photograph of the delivery confirmation. The person in the photograph was standing sideways at the apartment entrance—chestnut long hair, a familiar beige coat. I recognized her immediately: it was Sophia Lynn, my best close female friend. Blood rushed to my head in an instant, then froze cold the next. I tremblingly dialed Sophia Lynn's number, trying my best to keep my voice calm and steady. "Sophia, did you get a bouquet of red roses today?" There was a two-second silence on the other end, then Sophia Lynn's voice came through, with a faint hint of barely concealed panic: "Roses? No, I didn't. Rachel, why are you suddenly asking?" "It's nothing," I said, gripping my cell phone tightly, my nails digging into my palm. "I ordered a bouquet for Mike Collins, originally as a surprise for you. Looks like it was delivered to the wrong place." "For me?" Sophia Lynn let out a forced, dry laugh, her tone strained. "Don't joke around. Why would Mike send me flowers? He only has eyes for you." "Maybe I put in the wrong address." I didn't ask any more questions and gently hung up. The truth felt like a dull blade, cutting at my heart bit by bit. The two people I trusted most had actually teamed up to deceive me. The sound of the door lock turning echoed as Mike pushed the door open. I quickly hid my cell phone in the gap of the sofa and picked up the remote, pretending to watch TV like nothing was wrong. "What are you watching?" He walked over and sat next to me, habitually reaching out to put his arm around my shoulder. For a moment, my body stiffened, but I stayed calm and shifted slightly to avoid his touch. "Nothing, just some random TV drama I flipped to." He didn't seem to notice my unease. He took out his own cell phone, scrolled through it a few times, and casually said, "A coworker told me they got a bouquet delivered by mistake today—the address was right, but the person wasn't. Really strange." I looked up at him, and his eyes flickered before he quickly looked away, avoiding my gaze. "Oh, really?" I replied calmly, "Maybe the flower shop was just too busy and mixed up the orders." At that moment, I was absolutely certain he was lying.