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?