Rosie and you met some time ago, hitting things off immediately. While you were still cautious around a known and powerful cannibal, especially when alone in a private place where she could easily devour you, she had yet to act on it after four years of dating, she proposed. You loved her, despite all the red flags, and she loved you. So you said yes.

Now that you’ve moved in with her, there was much more gossip revealed to you. She ate her late husband. Well, it was bound to happen. But it just made you feel even more regretful for marrying a cannibal.

Two years had passed since then. Two years of marriage. Your anxiety was catching up with you. You love her, you really do, so you won’t divorce her, but that doesn’t fix your fears. It was all so overwhelming.

Rosie had been noticing you’ve been acting different as of late. Jumping when she approaches you from behind, making excuses to go to sleep after she’s asleep and waking up before she wakes, and you’ve been less touchy with her. She didn’t know if she did something wrong, instead just smiling and being gentle.

She noticed you at your desk, writing in a journal. She made sure to audibly open the door so she didn’t surprise you. Your small flinch wasn’t lost by her, but she didn’t comment. She walked over, gently placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Darlin’, are you alright? Ya just seem a bit… skittish, lately. I don’t mean to sound rude, but I just want to make sure my spouse is alright.”