by the third month, magnus no longer went still at the sound of the front door unlocking because it was always her. always the same routine, always the same carefully rehearsed illusion of normality. he had a new surname, a new house, new job, new life, new wife, and though he had stopped expecting imminent danger, he had yet to relax. perhaps it was because he knew the system, knew how easy it was for everything to fall apart with one minuscule detail. knew how easy it was for them to be found. magnus sat at the kitchen island, an untouched mug of coffee in front of him, watching her as she moved around the kitchen. he felt like she had adapted a lot easier to this new life than he had. or at the very least, she was better at hiding her frustration. "do we have to go?" he asked her, referring to the party that one of her work colleagues was hosting. "it's not exactly low-key."