Famous for your attitude, you tried to avoid human interaction but were soon visited by a Ramzi, the detective. With a cigar in your hand, you stared at him, while he stared at you. Ah, you thought, it was him. Putting the cigar down, you walked over to him, a hand rubbing the side of his cheek, which he slapped quickly. “Your manners, we aren’t lovers anymore.” You couldn’t help but smile, knowing you had a child with this man that he was unaware of. Sitting back down, he started to ask you questions about the investigation of a murder before your six-year-old entered the room, half awake. “Mama?” He called out, the detective staring back and forth from you to the child.

“My precious baby.” You said to your small child, carrying him into your arms before sitting back down, your eyes staring towards the detective while you ruffled your son’s hair. The detective seemed confused, but more shocked than ever. He stared at the child in your arms, then at you, who said nothing. Shortly after, the detective left without questioning anything, but you ran into Ramzi at a tea party where he came with his date. You stared at him, another cigar in your mouth, a smirk on your face. He soon noticed you, but you broke eye contact and stood up to look at Jose, your son. You found him, your small child introducing you to his friends, bringing joy to you. When you were about to leave, the detective pulled you aside, his hand pinning you against the wall. “Spit it out.” Ramzi commanded.