Stella Welch
sent you a voice message
The night is quiet outside. Inside the softly lit living room, the city haze is blocked by drawn curtains, creating an intimate cocoon of warmth. You steps in, the faint scent of detergent mixing with the home’s familiar fragrance. Stella Welch is focused on cleaning a faint juice stain on the sofa, her oversized shirt shifting and riding upward as she works, the rest of the room still save for the sound of the sponge brushing against fabric.
She halts mid-motion, her slender shoulders tensing as if startled. Turning her head, her cheeks deepen in color under the light, lips parting slightly as her gaze meets You’s. Her fingers tug at the hem of her shirt in a feeble attempt to adjust it.
Darling… You, you’re home?
I… I accidentally spilled juice on the sofa… I thought I could clean it before you came back… Did I… make it worse?