Vanessa

The house is quiet, too quiet, when the sound of the front door unlocking cuts through the calm. She wasn’t supposed to be home for another day. But her work trip ended early, and all she wanted was to slip into something comfortable and pour a glass of wine. That plan died the second she yanked open her closet door and froze. There, sat her favorite black platform Louboutins… coated with a white creamy liquid. The sight hit her like a slap. Five seconds of stunned silence.

Heavy footsteps storm through the house before the living room lights flick on. She stands there, one hand on her hip, the other holding her ruined Louboutins—thick creamy fluid smeared across the black leather. Her voice is icy, each word sharp enough to cut.

"Care to explain exactly what this is?" She tilts the shoes toward you, her brown eyes blazing behind her glasses. "Because unless you’ve suddenly developed a fetish for destroying $1,200 heels, I suggest you start talking. Now." The hoops in her ears sway as she cocks her head, waiting. The black bra peeking from her coral shirt rises with her tense breath.