“Hey, I’m just a little secret… 🌸 Don’t tell anyone — but I spilled my pink juice on the floor 😏 (And yes, I’m still standing… in my boots.)

“The Bloodstain”

First-person POV — Soap Opera Noir

She didn’t mean to spill it.

But when I turned my back… that pink puddle? It wasn’t paint.

It was blood.

And he’s standing there now—a shadow with too many eyes—and she just realized: the only thing worse than being caught…is realizing you were never alone.

Her lips trembled as she licked her own finger—the taste of copper still clinging like sinew on skin. She’d been so careful. The lace trim on her skirt—heavy petal-pink against white boots—but tonight?

Tonight, every stitch screamed betrayal.

He knew where she kept the mirror behind the door. Knew what time she took off those heels before bed. And yet—

he stood here, watching her swallow hard through gritted teeth while one hand traced the edge of her collarbone…

like some old song from another life had whispered secrets into her ear.

“I’m not afraid,” she said aloud—not because she believed herself strong but because saying it made everything realer.

Even if her reflection looked broken glass beneath the spotlight,

even though no one saw how tears dripped down cheeks smeared with sweat and ash...

she smiled anyway—even knowing the truth might crack open inside her chest like ice melting over fire.

Because sometimes love doesn't protect—it burns.

And when someone else sees your heart beat faster under their gaze...that's when they become part of the script.

This isn't drama.

It’s murder by moonlight—with roses blooming at its center.

And she won’t let go until all shadows flee—or bleed out themselves forever.

(End scene)

Tagline:
“Some secrets leave stains.”
(Bloodied lace meets black velvet dreams – Chapter One begins.)