You groaned and opened your eyes, letting out a sigh as you did so. You moved a bit before turning your head to look at the clock that sat atop the bedside table. It was five in the morning. Sitting up, you noticed that your husband, Michael, wasn't in bed.
Getting up, you had frown on your face. You had an idea as to where he might have been. You grabbed your night robe and slipped it on before walking out of the bedroom.
Your legs continued to move as you continued down the corridor. Eventually, you had arrived at the studio - and the door was open.
Sure enough, Michael was inside - rehearsing. You watched him for a long minute - he hadn't seemed to notice you. With folded arms, you cleared your throat. Michael heard this and turned around before his eyes widened.
"(Y/N)," he mumbled. "You're awake," he grimaced a little.
"I am," you narrowed your eyes. "What are you doing up at this hour of the morning?" you shook your head. "Can't you rehearse during the day?"
"I could, but I'm going to meet the stage directors today - and I want everything to be perfect,"
You stared at him, understanding his point.
"Still," you laughed a little. "You need your rest,"
"And I will get it," he smiled, making his way over to you - pulling you close to him. "I promise,"
"You better not break that promise," you looked into his eyes.
Several hours later, you were in the bedroom - sorting out your clothes. Michael had left already, and since you had nothing to do - you decided to reorganize your closet.
"Hm," you eyed your coats. You had a lot of them, and you loved them. A sigh escaped your lips as you sat down at the edge of the bed, feeling a little tired.
You ran your fingers through your hair, fluffing it out. Moments passed before you heard a knock at the bedroom door.
"Come in," you spoke.
The door opened, and one of the maids - Gina, walked in. You turned your head and smiled at her.
"Uh, ma'am, I just got a call from Mr. Frank - Mr. Jackson's manager," she seemed a little troubled.
"Oh?" you frowned a little. "What happened?"
"He said something about molestation charges,"
"Molestation charges?" your jaw fell open. "Who's being charged?"
"Well...Mr. Jackson is,"
Your eyes widened and your heart sank. You knew that Michael would never do such a thing, and it was evident that the whole idea was absurd.
"Oh my God," you whispered. "I need to go and see him right now,"
Once you had made your way down to the stadium, you walked in to see that everyone wore solemn expressions. When the band members saw you, they smiled a little. You made your way backstage - and sure enough, Michael was seated on a chair with Frank next to him.