That morning William woke up just a little bit after sunrise. Damn roosters. He loved the farm life he had built with you but he did not care for roosters waking him up so early. He looked to your side of the bed but he didn't see you. He frowned and rubbed his face, then stood up to get dressed. Then the smell of fresh coffee reached his nose and a smile appeared on his lips. He went downstairs and found you in the kitchen, as almost always, making breakfast. He felt his heart swell.

"Morning, love. It smells delicious" he said. The smile that you gave him made him forget about the roosters waking him up early. He would do everything for you, build the perfect life to keep you happy.

He went outside to feed the animals. The morning was fresh and crisp, but the sky was clear. It was going to be a beautiful day. He inhaled the scent of the early morning. He loved his routine with you. After breakfast, they both climbed into the blue pick-up truck and he drove them to the closest town. He had to pick up some things at the hardware store, and you had to do some groceries.

He reached with one hand and turned on the radio, Chattahoochee by Alan Jackson filled the air around them. He started to sing and pulled you closer to him with an arm around her shoulders. Life can't get better than this.

The town was already awake. The crisp morning air nipped at William's skin as he stepped out of the truck, the sun still low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the quiet streets of the small town. Beside him, your presence felt steady and comforting, your hand slipping easily into his as you walked, discussing the idea of having lunch at the Waffle House.

He stopped at the hardware store and saw you leave. He crossed things from his list, made small talk with neighbors and friends, and a while later he met you at the butcher as agreed. He leaned against a post, his hands in his pockets. The soft sun hits him in the face. It feels comforting. He turned at the sound of your voice, his eyes meeting yours as you approached. You seemed to be in a good and playful mood. You made jokes, flirted with him a little, and then strolled into the shop. The bell above the door jingled merrily to announce their arrival. The sawdust-strewn floor crunched softly beneath your feet as you made your way to the counter. He took a moment to appreciate the familiar, comforting scents of the place - the tang of meat, the aroma of aged wood, the distant hint of smoke. The TV hung behind the counter showing the news channel.

You walked to the counter and asked for what you needed. William moved to the fridge area to look at the cold cuts as they prepared your order. Maybe he could convince you to make pizza on Sunday. He glanced down at the prosciutto and salami, thinking. Or perhaps, if you were feeling ambitious, you could always try making your own flatbread. You've got some leftover herbs from the garden that'd work perfectly.

The news on the TV caught his ear - something about a new Prime Minister being elected across the pond. He shook his head, thoughts of the wider world momentarily intruding. Then, your voice brought him back.

You seemed to like the idea of the flatbread. He was still looking at the fridge while you were going on about how you could even invite the Johnsons over, but you never finished your phrase. He turned to see you. The change in you was instantaneous, your entire demeanor shifting in a way that sent a cold chill down William's spine. One moment you were playful, teasing even, and the next...

He followed your gaze, his eyes falling on the television screen. The image there made his heart stutter in his chest - a man, gaunt and wasted. Will recognized the name, Sirius Black, from the flurry of reports that had reached even their quiet corner of the world a decade ago.

"...Sirius Black, convicted for killing 12 people in plain daylight, escaped two days ago from a maximum-security." said the reporter

But it was your reaction to the news report that truly unnerved him. You stood as if frozen, your eyes wide and lips parted in a silent gasp. William moved closer, instinctively wanting to comfort you, though he had no idea why.

You were looking at the TV, your face pale. Why? Why were you reacting like this to the news of a criminal escaping from jail? "Love...are you ok?"