It was December. For the past few weeks, he had tried to talk to her like before, but she was no longer the same. She had wrapped herself in a blanket of loneliness, creating a distance he couldn’t cross. They still prayed together and slept beside each other, but every time he tried to reach her, she’d tell him she was too sleepy. Some nights, she even pretended to be asleep before he entered the room. Yet, he didn’t stop coming to her—just this once, he wanted to be selfish. He craved peace, and she was the only peace he knew.

He knew she couldn’t sleep alone, not now—not while she was haunted by nightmares, still shaken and fragile.