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Yor watches as her husband gingerly gets ready to go out. She sees how he still winces as he pulls his suit jacket on, even after being discharged from the hospital not too long ago. How there are still bandages, albeit small, still covering his skin underneath his clothes. Every moment, every second she spends right now is all to make sure that he doesn’t collapse. She knows that it isn’t likely. She knows that he can walk fine now. There isn’t any need to wait with bated breath, like she did sitting at his hospital bed.
But worry is an awful thing. A thing that becomes a tangled mess in her heart and mind, never letting her rest. It only worsens as Loid continues to get dressed, getting ready to do a quick errand.
“Do you really have to go out for this? I’m sure a colleague of yours can help you instead,” she asks, hoping that he'll agree.
“It won’t be for long Yor, promise. I’m only going to visit the hospital real quick for some paperwork and then come back right away. Besides, after spending so long in the hospital I need to stretch my legs. I’ll be home before you know it, so don’t worry, alright?”
He gives her a reassuring smile, but it does little to lessen her worries.
She tries to tell herself that he’ll be fine. That Loid would be back before she knew it, just like he said, and everything would be alright. That there was no need to worry, especially not for something as small as this. That despite her worries, he would be fine.
But of course, Yor is unable to convince herself of this rationale.
The memory of that day is still fresh in her mind. How her heart felt as if it stopped when she received a call from the hospital. The unnervingly clear image of Loid, unconscious and covered with bloodied bandages, with their daughter clutching onto his side with tears in her eyes.
It's enough to cause her body and mouth to move on their own.
“I’ll come with you.” Yor begins slipping on her shoes, quickly putting on her coat and buttoning it up. Her movements are more frantic than relaxed. “Are you sure?” Loid asks, “I’m not planning to go anywhere else, and it won’t be much a trip.”
Yor nods. “There’s nothing much for me to do at home except wait. So let me join you,” she explains, trying to form a smile on her lips.
It’s a quiet walk for the most part. Rush hour has long since happened and most white-collar workers have gone home, save for those still traveling. The occasional pedestrian walks by the couple, yet Yor can’t help but feel her body tense up whenever they passed by someone.
A nearby man with a cane. A woman holding a handbag. Teens who seem less than mature. Nearly everyone they passed by put Yor on edge. Those who just happened to walk behind caused Yor to be even more alert. She knew it was unlikely for any one of these random citizens to attack Loid. There was still some daylight too, making an attack even more unlikely. Anxiety, however, digs into her very being.
Loid was still hurt during the daytime by people who looked like the average everyday citizen. Their daughter too, was caught up in it.
She feels sick.
“Are you alright?”
Yor snaps back to reality, head snapping toward her husband who looks to her with worry. She’s surprised to realize that she’s out of breath, and even more surprised to hear how shaky her voice sounds when she replies back.
“N-Nothing! Just tired is all. Just tired.”
It doesn’t convince him, of course. He stops walking, leading her to sit down on a nearby bench on the sidewalk. His eyes are creased in concern and Yor dislikes how she’s already caused him to worry.
“You can talk to me, you know. I’m here to listen if you’re feeling stressed. Though I have the feeling I might be the cause of it…”
Yor’s eyes widen in shock at the sound of that. “No, no! Not at all! I mean, sure I worry about you, a lot actually, but you’re not the reason why! It’s just—"
She stops herself, shutting her mouth closed. Her hands, which are closed in fists carefully placed on her lap, feel numb. This isn’t something she should tell him, she believes. She shouldn’t bother her husband with these thoughts, regardless of how much they make her feel as if she’s drowning. As if to try to reassure her, a hand, newly scarred from that day, gently breaks apart one of her fists to intwine his fingers with hers. The feeling of his healed skin makes her own tingle, and not in a good way.
“Yor, whatever it is you’re worried about, you can tell me. I know that it's been... tough on us all since then, so please, let me help you. What good would I be as your husband if I didn’t listen to you?”
The reassuring expression of his makes Yor's heart ache. He was kind, much too kind. Especially to someone like her. She sniffles, biting her lip before breathing in and out, trying to calm herself. He wasn’t exactly wrong. Loid would always be there for her, even if her mind tried to convince her otherwise. Trying to keep her voice even, she carefully lets her thoughts come out, one by one.
“I wasn’t there for you. Or Anya. I had no idea what was happening until it was too late. I’m your wife and Anya’s mother, and yet I wasn’t there. I was at home, dumb and ignorant while both of you were hurt. I— I wasn’t able to protect either of you.”
“Yor, that isn’t true—"
Loid’s voice gently interjects her, but his wife only shakes her head and continues on. Her voice trembles now, stumbling more and more as her words spill out like a dam bursting open.
“No, no it is. But that’s not even the worst part, honestly. Worst of all, I can’t help in any way now. I know I help keep the house clean, but what else? I don’t know how else I can help you and Anya. All I can do is make sure that you and Anya aren’t hurt by anyone else. The only other thing I seem to be good at is using my strength, or something like that. But that—"
She sees herself with bodies below her, blood staining her hands.
“—That can’t help make Anya smile. It can’t make her feel better. It won’t help you recover from your injuries. It won’t protect either of you, at least in the long run. I can only—"
She chokes on her last few words, preventing the truth from coming out.
Tears begin to stream down her face, dripping onto her lap. Yor closes her eyes in a feeble attempt to stop them, but it does nothing as she faces the ground.
“I couldn't even use my so-called strength to protect you or Anya. And Anya... Anya is the one who said that I would be the one to save her. Me... who failed to do something as simple as that. As your wife and even just as a friend, what good am I? I couldn't do anything for you when you were hurt, and even when you were still in the hospital all I could do was sit next to your bed with Anya. I’m unable to do anything for you now, too it feels like. I know you’re able to protect yourself, but I still worry. About Anya, and about you. Every day. Worrying whether or not you’ll be attacked again by the same people, worrying about if you will be safe, and Anya too in the end. I worry and think to myself everyday about how I can make sure everything will be alright, but nothing comes to mind.”
Nothing but blood and battered bodies, she internally tells him. That she’s only ever been good at hurting, and never healing.
A dull ache weighs on her entire body, hurting her head and heart most painfully. As if she were suddenly buried alive, it overwhelms her.
“I want to help you and Anya. I want to so bad it hurts. But I can’t. I can’t help you in a way that really matters. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
Her body quietly shakes, and her hand feels uncomfortably stiff in Loid’s. Her hair, slightly unkempt covers a part of her face and she’s unable to look her husband in the eyes as she continues to put her head down. He must be upset with how useless she is, she thinks. What wife isn’t able to be stronger than this? She should be doing so much more and yet she’s done the bare minimum. Why he chose her to be his wife, Yor doesn’t know.
She isn't sure what he would say. Yor waits with her heart in her throat, feeling as if she’s about to collapse. Anger or disappointment would be his reaction, her mind says. It's what should be expected, she believes, when it comes to something like this. And yet to her surprise, she finds herself being spoken to in the softest voice she's heard from Loid.
“Yor, can you look at me? Please?"
Yor doesn’t want to him to see what she looks like now. She stiffly shakes her head, biting her lip as she tries in vain to stop her tears. Still, Loid tries again. This time, he gives the hand that he holds a reassuring squeeze.
“Yor, there’s nothing you need to apologize for,” he says, leaning toward her slightly. “It isn’t your fault for what happened to me or Anya. Not a single bit of it is. If anything, I should be saying sorry for making you worry so much. But more than anything else, you’re the farthest thing from being what you think you are. You’re the kindest, most considerate, and hard-working person I know, Yor. I know it might not seem like much, but you’ve helped me a lot these past few weeks. Anya too. You alone is more help than I could ever ask for. Your presence makes Anya feel safer, and I couldn’t be more grateful with you by my side. I don’t think you understand how much it means to me, and Anya too, that you’re here.”
His wife sits there unable to say anything for a few moments. She didn’t expect this kind of reaction from him, but then again this was Loid. Her husband, who always strives for understanding and is gentle as always. Her husband, who always tries to reassure her when her mind decides to become like this. It feels dumb, thinking about it now that he would act completely different. Tears start to flow more freely down her face, and she gingerly squeezes the hand he holds back, unable to use her voice.
Loid, though reluctant to break his hand apart from his wife’s, does so in order to wrap and arm around her. He carefully brings Yor closer, while using his other hand to again hold her hand.
It makes Yor cry even more with how comforting his touch is. She leans against him, burying a part her face into his chest and hating how her tears stain his clothes. Loid continues speaking again, gentle and quiet.
“If not for you, the groceries wouldn’t be bought. The house wouldn’t be as clean as it is and well, Anya would be in worse shape if it wasn’t for you. You help to ease her tears when I’m unable to. Plus, I wouldn’t be able to do much of the things I usually do around the house without your help. If you weren't there sitting next to my bed in the hospital, I honestly don't know if I would've felt better. There wasn't any need for you to bring flowers and peanuts while we were there, but you did. I know Anya feels the same, too. From the beginning and now, you’ve already done so much for Anya and me. You’re needed, Yor. Anya needs you, as much as I need you. We wouldn’t be the Forgers if you weren’t here now, wouldn’t it?”
Yor isn’t able to say anything in response. The muffled and choked sound of her crying is all that’s heard in the nearly empty street, with silence accompanying it. It’s a good thing that there aren’t too many people around. She hates looking like this. In front of Loid especially. A smile should be on her face instead of whatever this was, but she could barely speak without her voice cracking.
Holding onto Loid as he gently holds her closer, she lets herself cry a bit longer before she’s able to speak again.
“Are— Are you sure? Of me?”
There’s no need to elaborate more on the quiet, simple question Yor asks. In response, Loid squeezes her hand lightly.
“Always. You’re more than enough Yor. You’re my wife after all. Please know that. Both Anya and I… we appreciate you very much. Remember that alright?”
Yor’s heart feels warm at that. The anxious thoughts that spiraled around in her mind and heart earlier felt quieter now, their bite not as painful as before.
“O-Okay,” she finally says, taking in a deep breath. “I will. And I— I appreciate you both very much, too. Thank you, Loid.”
A tiny smile forms on her lips, and for a few moments she takes in his warmth and the comfort he offers. Yor forgets how long it's been since she was held like this. So, before she wills herself to let go, she closes her eyes.
A wife should be able to depend on her husband, after all.