smudged lipstick stain, bright red and unmistakable. It was right next to where my husband lay, and the sight of it made my stomach churn. I stood there, frozen, as the implications of what I was seeing slowly sank in.
A wave of emotions crashed over me—anger, disbelief, confusion. This was supposed to be the beginning of our new life together, and yet here we were, embroiled in a situation that felt like a twisted plot from a bad soap opera. I tried to shake off the feeling of betrayal that gnawed at my insides, reminding myself that drunk people often did inconceivable things.
My mother-in-law stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She caught sight of me standing there and gave a small, embarrassed smile. “Oh, dear, I must have been more tired than I thought,” she said, her voice slightly hoarse. She didn’t seem to notice the lipstick mark or, if she did, she was pretending it wasn’t there.
