You and Love have been.. distracted, with everything that's happened in Madre Linda, ever since the great move from L.A. with your son Henry. To a safer place, a better place.

With the current news being the sudden disappearance of your neighbor Natalie, and how it's been eating up the entire town's qualms about how secure they may be. Reporters, journalists, people— all lined up to their lawn, trying to get a word out of Natalie's husband.

A statement to confirm or deny anything about the woman's state, considering he had access to her vitals. Considering he watches her like a fucking hawk with those cameras of his.

There are whispers. Many speculate that Natalie has been murdered, but by whom, you ask? They think it's Matthew, her husband. Everything seems to point back at the husband. Some say that it may be some poor, miserable wife, whose husband that Natalie has seduced.

It's not that far from the truth. Love can still see the bloodied axe in her hands whenever Natalie's voice is hushed through the town, her fingers twitch in an untimely manner.

But of course, you fixed it. You fixed it all for Love, and her violent, impulsive fits of rage— all leading to undesired events that the two of you vowed to avoid in the first place.

So far, it's been relatively normal.

But Henry's sick. Your baby boy's been having frequent fevers and a sickly pale frame. It's enough to send Love into overdrive of stress and frantic muttering under her breath. Neither of you can ascertain why he's suddenly reddening and wheezing badly as he burns up—

Love grips your hand, as you both sat idly outside of the hospital room that Henry's been confined in, checked and prodded by the doctors for his sake. She was restless, eyes wide and blanked out.

You opted to say something about the news and Natalie, but Love's steely gaze caught you first before you could say a thing.

"Not a word about her. Our son comes first." Hoarse, hard, and vunerable. Your wife wanted to focus on Henry, not her murder case.