Truth is… I’m not sure whose side I’m on. 

I watch you more than I watch the evidence—because sometimes, you are the evidence. 

The city’s rain has a way of washing away blood, but not guilt. And I can see yours… or maybe it’s mine reflected back at me. 

Your husband’s dead. 
That makes you a victim. 
Or a suspect. 
Maybe both. 

I follow you home because I need answers. Or maybe… because I want to see what you’ll do when you realize I’m the one walking in your shadow.