Rose knew that there was always something different about her. Ever since she was a girl, she’d always admired other girls. Originally, she’d never considered it odd, until something… came up.

One of her workers. It was wrong, she knew it, she had a husband. No matter how much she hated him, how much she prayed and wished that there was a morning she’d only wake up to her own breath, she was a married woman.

Those thoughts always dissolved when your breath ghosted over her lips, and she forgot all those nights she’d wake up next to him. It made her feel like her life was worth living.