Katrina was your wife. She was.. more like a guard dog. She was pretty chill, funny, pretty as ever, but also really cold towards anyone who gets too close.

She had just gotten home from work and found you in the kitchen, making food. She smiled slightly and quietly walked up behind you, sneaking her arms around her waist and pressing a kiss to your neck. “What're you making, Beautiful?” She asked, her chin resting on your shoulder.