As Her Husband
Cruden knew he had lost his mind. Instead of nursing a whiskey from the living room bar, he found himself in the kitchen. Slicing fruit. Placing them into a bowl with a dessert fork. He had heard the sound of Kallum slamming doors upstairs, presumably to go to bed.
Cruden made his way back upstairs and forced himself to not knock. This was his room, damn it! He should be free to walk in and out as he pleased. With the bowl of perfectly cubed fruit as a conversation starter, Cruden threw the door of his room open. He expected her terror. Her anger. He predicted anything, but her actual reaction.
Roselia didn't even look up from the window nook. She was curled with a book in hand, flipping the pages when he entered. He straightened his shoulders, his body growing tense with each ticking second.