The silence that settled after my words stretched out for concerningly long, each interminable second that ticked by adding to my mounting anxiousness. 

I began panicking internally, worried about having overstepped my bounds, having pushed forwards too quickly, but thankfully, a reply finally came from the kitchen, in the form of three, succinct words.

"Welcome back, darling," she said, her words quick, hurried, perhaps to cover up her nervousness or embarrassment. At least, I'd like to think so.

In any case, they pierced my heart like an arrow and sent a wave of warmth spreading through my chest, and probably my cheeks, too.

And so, with renewed courage, I stepped into the kitchen and was greeted by the mouthwatering sight of my wife's derriere, clad in tight-fitting jeans, an airy white blouse covering her back, and wearing a pink apron which I could only see hints of from my position. What I could see was her swaying hips as she hummed a tune while stirring something, making her gorgeous behind shake enticingly from side to side.

She's definitely doing that on purpose, isn't she? Right? It's not just me reading too much into things?

As I stepped forwards tentatively, her humming increased in intensity, and so did her alluring movements.

Oh yeah, it's on purpose for sure. Damn. I think the fact that she's trying so hard to act sexy just for my sake is turning me on more than the sight itself.

Her hair was so perfectly smooth it reflected the light, I realized, turning sections of its pitch black, cascading length brilliant white from the ceiling lights' glare.

It couldn't have been easy to give it such a uniform mirror finish, given that her long locks reach down past her shoulder blades.

Wow, just what did she do to her hair to get it so perfect...? And how long did it take?

Lost in thought, I found my body moving forward without any conscious input and, before I realized it, I was standing right behind Alice, my arms primed and ready to wrap themselves around her body in an embrace from behind.

Wait, no! What if she's still not ready for that? I shouldn't–

She leaned back, pressing her back against my chest. I thought I heard an appreciative hum.

I froze.

"Geez," she muttered poutily, "I have to do everything myself."

I was caught so off-guard by her initiative and chastising words that not even Eloquence could save me as I stumbled out a "So-sorry."

She huffed, though now that I wasn't as flustered, I could feel the playfulness behind it.

"You can be a bit more proactive, I'll stop you if I don't feel comfortable. Are you even a man? Making me take the initiative," she teased, snuggling into me even more. Our height difference meant her head fit comfortably under mine, my chin resting on her scalp. Her hair felt as silky as it looked.

Hearing her taunting words, I gulped audibly, and wrapped my arms around her midsection as I planted a kiss on the top of her head, receiving another hum of appreciation and happiness in response. 

"Alright, I'll try to be a bit bolder from now on," I whispered, and I could swear I felt her shiver slightly in my grasp.

Silently, she placed her hands over mine, which were resting one another on top of her belly. Her palms felt cool and smooth.

It also made me realize where my hands were exactly, or rather what they were over, and that it would be in my best interest to move them away as swiftly as possible.

"Don't."

At the first twitch, however, my wife's hands clamped down on mine with a steely grip, and I found myself with no way to move them save for forcefully wrenching them from her grip, something I would obviously never do.

"Why?" I asked, "that place is..."

"I know. Obviously," she snapped back, cutting me off.

 She seemed to regret her choice of words immediately, however, hastily fumbling out an apology. 

"S–sorry. I just... well, this is part of me now, for the rest of my life, and... I need you to accept it too, to accept me for all I am. For all I have become. I can't keep hiding anymore." She squeezed my hand in hers.

Was it because of fear of me rejecting her? Her whole body was trembling now, her eyes fixed on the floor.

Seriously, Alice can be really dumb sometimes.

I hugged her harder against me, tracing slow, gentle circles over her abdomen, my fingers separated from her skin by her shirt and apron.

"Alice, this... I never once felt disgusted or anything like that by it. It isn't something to be ashamed of, or something I have to accept. I've already accepted all of you, Alice, I did that long ago, and this changes nothing. It's just... a mark, a proof of your strength and perseverance. I won't ask you to be proud of it, obviously, but I am proud of you for bouncing back after having gone through what you did. I love you, Alice. I'll never leave you."

"R-Ryan, I... thank you. Thank you so much, but... there's something else. Another thing I must ask you to accept."

Without waiting for my answer, she turned around in my arms, looking up at my face and letting me see her face for... what must've been weeks if not months.

It was to be expected, but she had changed a bit. Her skin was pale from staying indoors, and it looked a bit dry and cracked. Her cheeks had also plumped up slightly, perhaps due to her lackluster diet, and she had dark circles under her eyes.

That last observation made me realize that she wasn't wearing glasses, which had been the norm in the past few months due to her having developed myopia. Perhaps she was wearing contacts instead? Looking closely, however, I could see that the glasses had left their mark; a small, slightly reddish bump on top of her small nose.

All these little things meant she might not have been as objectively gorgeous as before, but I couldn't care less; she was still the most beautiful woman in the world in my eyes.

A strand of hair fell over her right eye, and I swept it behind her ear in a movement that was almost muscle memory.

I almost asked her what it was that she needed me to a accept, but caught myself. She had done everything possible to be as appealing as possible, from her choice of clothes to her hairdo, contacts and enticing movements, but hadn't put on even the slightest bit of makeup.

'Wait, could it be...'

"When you said, 'something else for me to accept' did you mean... this?" I asked, running my finger along her slightly cracked lips to convey my meaning.

She nodded wordlessly. She wouldn't meet my eyes.

I grinned widely, showing my teeth. It probably looked a bit goofy; that was what I was going for.

"What, that's what had you so worried? Some bags and dry skin? Having lost your tan? Don't worry ma'am, you won't get any complains from me."

Her eyes widened as she heard my upbeat answer, and after a few seconds of silence she began laughing, all her pent-up anxiousness melting into laughter.

That was just what I'd hoped to accomplish; besides giving her my honest opinion, naturally. 

The heavy mood lightened slightly, and I found myself smiling widely, pulled along by her contagious giggles

"Y-you really don't care that my face is... like this? Really?" she asked, a question that seemingly came from the last vestiges of her insecurity.

I would crush them without remorse. 

"Not at all. You are still the most beautiful woman in the world for me, Alice. I fell in love with you long ago, and that hasn't changed," I said in reply, a more sincere, warmer smile now on my face. The kind of smile I wouldn't give to anybody else.

She hugged me tight, burying her face on my chest.

"Ah, I'm so happy... could we stay like this for a bit longer?" she asked, her muffled words resonating in my chest and making me shiver. She was most likely blushing furiously; it was a pity I couldn't see it.

The thought made me smile.

"Of course, honey. Anything you want."

"Hmmm." She gave a little pleased sound, perhaps at the word I addressed her by.

Lowering my head, I pressed my mouth against her scalp and kissed it, inhaling deeply, smelling the shampoo on her hair. It had a faint, pleasing fragrance. A familiar one too, despite me not having smelled it for months. I loved its scent more than any expensive perfume, and I had let her know that years ago. Ever since that day, she hadn't used any other shampoos.

Goddamn, I love her so freaking much.

I was tempted to tell her just that, but decided against breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between us. I simply squeezed her slightly in my grasp instead.

She squeezed back. It felt as if a missing piece had clicked back into place, making me whole again. Our forms pressed against each other, mine so much bigger than hers, embracing each other as if trying to become one being. And like that we stood, for what could've been seconds or hours, her head against my chest, in a quiet union only broken by the muffled thumps of our synchronized heartbeats..

Glopglopglopglop

Which made the sounds coming from the pot all the more obvious.

Is water supposed to boil that loudly?

Concerned, I tried to gently pry my wife off me, but she refused to let go, clamping into me with an iron grip.

"Alice, the pasta..."

"I know," she replied, her voice sounding almost pouty, "but don't want to move away..."

I smiled. My wife was truly too cute for this world.

"Don't worry, from now on, as long as there's nothing important to do, you can hug me as much as you want, for as long as you want. If you want, we can continue after we've eaten."

"OK..."

She still made no move to get off me. I was suddenly conscious of her rather sizeable breasts pressing up against me—even if it was through three layers of fabric—and of her belly on my groin. She thankfully put up no resistance as I gently unwrapped her arms and stepped back.

Looking at her slightly disappointed face, I leaned forth and gave her a quick peck on the lips, causing her to give out a cute little squeal, then watched as she got on with preparing our meal with a bit more pep in her step.

I myself began to set the table, smiling to myself when I saw that in its center sat a water-filled vase holding the crysanthemum I'd given her yesterday. A few short minutes later, we were both sitting down, Alice having taken her apron off before she did.

I inhaled. The delicious scent that reached my nostrils made my mouth water.

"Mmm, that smells delicious, Alice."

"Thanks, Ryan. You too."

What?

Alice blushed when she realized what she'd blurted out, but didn't take it back. She just blushed and fidgeted with her fork on the plate.

Wait, does she mean... no, best not to think about it too much.

"I'm... glad to hear that. Anyway, I'm starving," I said, then served myself until there was a small mountain of pasta on my plate.

The meal that proceeded looked normal on the surface... but there was a strange underlying... feeling, that made us conscious of the other's every action and word.

Sexual tension.

We hadn't been in such close contact for a long time, and hadn't yet discussed how far we were comfortable with going, so I was hyper-aware of Alice, of her body, her words, and everything she did, and something similar was probably happening to her.

The tension wholly uncomfortable, but it certainly left us as nothing more than blushing messes every time we caught us checking each other out, accidentally dropped something from clumsiness, or said something embarrassing, the latter of which I thankfully didn't suffer from thanks to Eloquence.

After a while, though, we slowly grew more comfortable as we realized the other was in the same situation, until we had mostly gone back to our normal selves.

And so, our first shared meal after a long hiatus ended on a relatively peaceful note.