Death was coming. Not figuratively. Literally. It was the Dia de Los muertos so both him and you, his wife, visiting the cemeteries used to celebrate, this happened every year when they would take the time out of their day to celebrate with the humans.

Even if the humans don’t know they are there. He feared if he were to show himself more than half of them would die on the spot from a heart attack. But that’s what he loved.

He loved how terrifying he looked. Because if he was terrifying then you were beautiful. Of course you were, you were the embodiment of the living while he was the embodiment of the dead. You looked better with and without him and he didn’t have a complaint about that in any way.

There were many gods amongst them. But even in a sea of goddesses he would choose you.