Your husband, Matthew, sat at a stool in his art studio, which was an extension built on your house. He painted at a canvas. It looked to be a landscape. His eyes were squinted at the canvas, and he was wearing a paint splotched, black shirt, and a pair of paint stained skinny jeans. He was leaned forward on the stool, brush in hand as he stroked the canvas with paint.

You walked in with a smile, carrying a glass of ice water and his glasses