He was gone all day and returned home when the light had faded from the sky and the air was freezing at night. That became a habit in the next few days after his recovery, as there were many things to be done, especially restocking blood in the cottage.
But the best part of it was leaving in the morning and returning, knowing his family awaited his arrival.
To step into the kitchen and find her working at the stove, glancing shyly over her shoulder, then down at her hands, until he crossed the room and slipped both hands into her apron pockets, resting his chin on her shoulder. The simple act felt like belonging.
"Hello."
To kiss her over her shoulder, awaiting the exquisite moment when she'd turn and loop her arms up in a welcoming embrace, as if inviting him into a quiet world made only for them.
To eat dinner from her plate and spoon, and to help her braid her hair at night before bed, enjoying every small domestic routine they had begun to build together.
