Your character starts receiving flowers and anonymous gifts. She doesn't know who is sending them. Her husband is suspicious, and the gifts begin to get stranger....
Your move, writer.
One path plays it as tender mystery: the gifts are odd on purpose, little clues from her husband himself, rebuilding a moment or memory she once mentioned in passing, and his suspicion is really guilt at how clumsily he's courting his own wife again. Another path leans domestic comedy: the gifts escalate into the absurd — a single garden gnome, a jar of pickles, a kazoo — and the mystery unravels into a well-meaning neighbor or a mistaken delivery address, with the husband's jealousy becoming the real punchline. A third direction goes quietly unsettling: the gifts know too much, arriving before she's said what she wants aloud, and the story sits in that flicker between flattered and afraid, letting the reader decide if someone is watching closely out of love or something else entirely.
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