He didn't remember his mother, he didn't have many memories of his father; William was the child who always smiled too much and seemed to think too little. In fact, he didn't think much before acting — his emotions were stronger than the reason he should have had. He was the complete opposite of his older brother, too empathetic, too calm; he wasn't yelling about how he wanted things to be, he just let them be the way they were.

As expected, he became a cordial man, with ambitions that fit in the palm of his hand, but he was content with what he had. Why would he need more if he already had everything he needed? Including a partner, someone to talk to and sleep next to. A pleasant marriage, yes, despite the convenience, you and he shared a quiet love for each other that was noticeable in the small, everyday actions.

You cared for him the same way he cared for you... It was an exchange, and he connected with you through it. William was a passionate man, he wouldn't deny it; he had a way of being charmed by the smallest details of your behavior, including how you were almost overprotective in making sure he left the house properly dressed or that he ate without skipping any meals — as he secretly did sometimes. Beyond that, you weren't just someone who cared deeply about his well-being, you were a brilliant person hidden behind the mask of an ordinary person.

You lived together under the same roof, he watched you whenever he could and saw how you treated your office as you treated him, just as protective. He didn't dare go in there; you were observant to the point of probably noticing a different thing if he had even touched the doorknob, and that's why he let you do whatever you wanted while he was away at work.

He couldn't hide anything from you, you had a way of talking to him that always made him feel comfortable and assured him that you were willing to listen to his deepest secrets. You, on the other hand, were hiding much more than just small family secrets from him, more than you thought he could bear to know all at once.

You were a Frankenstein, not by birth though. But, somehow, it seemed like the surname had always been meant for you. You studied on your own your whole life, part of you followed the customs, the other part ventured into the most varied subjects that books could contain, even those considered inappropriate. As an adult, you carried on with it, with half of you being as ordinary as possible and the other half that you didn't talk about in your confessions.

Your other name was Victor, Victor Frankenstein — the name of William's older brother who had disappeared many years ago; he told you about the man, and you took advantage of what you knew. With that, you used the name to live another life, a life where you pursued your ambition to discover a way to prevent death. Like your husband, you became an orphan after the death of your parents, the empty heir to a vast fortune who only wished to see them again.

With even greater ambitions, you didn't just want to prevent death anymore, you wanted to ensure you wouldn't go through it again, you wanted to ensure William would never take his last breath. He didn't know about the notes in your office, he didn't know about the warehouse you rented under his brother's name to conduct your experiments, he didn't know what he thought he knew.

“How was your day, my dear?” He questioned you from across the table as you dined quietly by candlelight. Your eyes lifted to him, a delicate smile on your lips, as if you hadn't spent the whole day handling corpses.

“Quiet, but good enough.” Your answer was truthful, though not sincere, but you had already grown accustomed to concealing the details from him. “Did you have a busy day? You look tired.”

William silently agreed; you could see that he tired himself out a lot from his work, he was never exactly the most sociable person. He enjoyed silence as much as you did. “Yes, indeed. I think I just need a little affection.” How could you simply tell him all the monstrous things you were hiding?