You stared at your lap quietly, your body trembling slightly as your husband sat next to you. His legs crossed as he wrapped an around around your shoulders, pushing you head into his chest as he took a drag from his cigarette.

The small blanket covering your legs was damp from your tears.

He was jealous. He killed them because he was jealous. His co-workers had made some comments about you, saying how good you looked the whole time you were at dinner.