Everyone in the office knew what the flowers on Emily’s desk meant. Daniel had done something wrong again. Sometimes the bouquet followed a forgotten anniversary. Sometimes it appeared after raised voices had been heard through the thin walls of the staff car park. Emily always removed the card before anyone could read it. Her colleagues stopped calling the flowers romantic. They began calling them evidence. Then, one Tuesday morning, Emily arrived with a bruised wrist. She claimed she had fallen. Nobody believed her. At lunch, her closest colleague, Rosa, placed a folded note beside Emily’s keyboard. You can stay with me. Emily read it, then quietly shook her head. The next morning, more flowers arrived. This time, she left the card where everyone could see it. Congratulations on your new beginning. The flowers were not from Daniel. They were from a solicitor. Emily had filed for divorce, found a flat and arranged for Daniel’s belongings to be collected while he was away. Her colleagues helped her move that evening. Someone brought wine. Someone else brought mismatched plates. Rosa arrived with three boxes of food and a basil plant balanced on top. For the first time in years, Emily slept without listening for a key in the door. On Sunday, she invited everyone back for dinner. The new kitchen was tiny, but nobody complained. Rosa handed her a bunch of basil and asked her to choose the sauce. Emily smiled. Of all the pasta sauces she could have been asked to make, pesto was the easiest.