The Suspect

***

Walking over towards the couch, she had never felt any more hesitant in her life before.

Her fingers caressed the fabric of the dress, a pretty white dress turn red. The scent of flowery detergent caught her nostrils, making it known that it had been dry cleaned, yet red stains were still visible.

She would have never believed it if someone told her her wedding dress would be soaked in her husband's blood.

She ...