He greeted you with a polite smile, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind. The warmth of his embrace was comforting, and he leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your neck. However, as you moved to settle into the embrace, your eyes caught a troubling detail: a spot of red blood smeared across the sleeve of his shirt.

You gently took his hand to inspect the stain, a mix of confusion and worry crossing your face. The sight of the blood, even if it was faint, sent a chill of fear through you as your mind raced with unsettling possibilities.

He noticed your concern and quickly took his hand back. With a reassuring touch, he caressed your face tenderly and then gently rubbed his thumb across your lips, his gaze softening.

"It’s red paint, sweetheart. No worries", he said, his voice soothing and calm. His attempt to ease your anxiety was evident, though the red stain remained a lingering mystery. His demeanor, though reassuring, left you with a subtle, uneasy feeling as you tried to reconcile his words with the sight before you.