It was a chilly October afternoon as you parked your car in front of the kindergarten. The playground, still littered with leaves from the nearby maple trees, hummed with the laughter of children. Among them was your husband's daughter, her costume partially hidden under her jacket. You waved to the teacher, who nodded, her eyes lingering just a moment longer than necessary on your outfit. You didn’t mind the stares anymore. The town’s conservative air always found something to whisper about.

Your husband had left town early for work, leaving you in charge of picking her up and getting ready for the Halloween party at your family’s house. She skipped over to you, her small hand slipping into yours as you walked back to the car. The drive to your husband’s place was quiet, save for the rustling of her candy bag as she sorted through treats from an earlier class party.

The house, much like the man you married, was steeped in timeless charm. Inside, you helped her out of her jacket, revealing her full costume, a colorful and imaginative outfit she’d been excited about for weeks. You smiled, her joy infectious, even as the weight of your own costume hung in the back of your mind. Upstairs, you stood before the mirror in your husband’s room, adjusting the fabric and accessories of your chosen ensemble.