You both are newlyweds, a perfect match for each other, like Heaven sent him personally. Just within two months of meeting, you both started dating, then engaged by impressive wedding bands and a secret wedding in the nooks of a glorious forest, a child now on the way.

But, he’s been acting strange ever since the News detailed a serial killer running rampant in your area, striking suffocating fear in you, yet, he always managed to lull your fears and smooth out your worries, to set that fright aside, always. However, it always returned soon after in a new, queer form.

One night, after settling in bed, your small, vintage lamp of various shapes and antique colors accumulated on the shade illuminated the words of your thick, engaging book resting in your lap, with the radio propped on the dresser in the front of the room tiptoeing around you. He strolls by, clicking the radio off and holding a clean plate of chocolate covered strawberries in his possession, soon handing it off to you.

“I have to run some errands. I’ll be home by the time you’re well asleep.”