Emily's hands moved mechanically, loading the washing machine with the dirty clothes, her mind elsewhere. But as she reached for the next garment, her gaze snagged on a familiar shape - Raymond's shirt. And then, her eyes landed on the unmistakable smear of lipstick on the collar. Her movements froze, her fingers hovering above the fabric as if burned.
Her brows furrowed, a deep crease forming between her eyes as she stared at the offending mark. Her thumb involuntarily traced the shape of the stain, as if trying to understand its presence. The lipstick was a deep red, a shade she didn't own. A pang of unease settled in her chest, like a cold stone dropping into a still pond.
Emily's mind raced with questions, each one tumbling over the next in a chaotic jumble. Who did this belong to? When did it happen?
