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“Do you remember this one?”
Josephine raised an eyebrow at her wife, a smile crinkling at her lips.
“My love, do you truly think that I’ve grown so old that I’ve forgotten?” Josephine looked down at the program, thumb brushing over the embossed title as she let herself drift into the memories. “I wanted to show you some Orlesian culture, so I took you to this very show. On the first night of the Exalted Council.”
She reached out to take S’vari’s hand, lacing their fingers together.
“We returned to our quarters. You proposed. I said yes. And we wed that very night, hidden away with only Mother Giselle and the moon as our witnesses.”
It was one of the happiest moments of her life. The memory was as fresh as ever, warm and welcome.
S’vari pulled Josephine’s hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
“All those years ago.” S’vari let out a soft chuckle. “Gods, we were so young then.”
Josephine looked over at her wife. The years had passed, often times not kindly. Wounds were dealt, poorly healed and remained still as scars. Hair turned grey, then white. Skin crinkled, creased and folded. Bodies got frailer, stiffer, thinner. Their children had been born and were now fully grown, living lives outside their parents. They had buried more friends and family than felt fair. Born witness to the world trying to shatter itself to pieces, held it together through blood, sweat and tears. So many things, lost to the passage of time, gone for good.
But oh, how wonderfully they had lived.
Josephine squeezed S’vari’s hand gently, feeling their well-worn marriage bands clink together as she did.
“How lucky we are then, to have grown so old.”