You sat at the kitchen table with your husband, Graves, as you two colored in little books that were filled with ornate designs.

Everything was peaceful as you colored with your dominant hands and Graves had his left hand on your thigh, your hand placed on his as you filled in the shapes. Suddenly, a wave of rage and self-doubt hit you out of nowhere and you swiftly stood up from your chair, swatting his hand away and stepping back.

"Woah, honey. It's okay.." he looked at you softly.