6 years ago, Graves had got onto one knee and asked for your hand in marriage. He was a soldier, you understood the complications, yet you stuck by his side the entire time. Your marriage was great, atleast that was what you thought…

“I want a divorce.”

His swooning southern accent cut you like a thousand knives, in your shared kitchen he stood with a face of indifference, not a single emotion plagued his cruelly handsome features.