After Daisy awoke from her drunken stupor, I stared at her. She was innocent, admirable, almost naive. Now my cousin had killed someone, and in the process, unknowingly, or as far as I know, had ripped open her husband's secret life. Now their lives had changed for the worse. He would face the rest of his life with guilt. The other, would cry for the life of his lost lover, as well as dismiss the many rumors that would circulate after such an event. The whole incident was reminiscent of one of those "the one time you don't do it." stories. The one time Daisy didn't travel with her husband, she ended up killing someone. I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I almost didn't notice my dear cousins' request for a cup of tea. I was surprised, but intrigued by his attitude. She didn't seem melancholic or regretful, but indifferent and cold. Far from the Daisy I once knew, cheerful, polite and elegant. As I went to get the cream I couldn't help but remember the change in his physical appearance too. His bright eyes had been replaced with ones that I found inexplicable...