Your arguments with Arthur never lasted long. You knew each other far too well; you both knew when it was better to stay quiet, and when leaving the other person alone was the right thing to do. But that night, things had gone differently.

Arthur had come back worn out and short-tempered after a job that lasted several days, and you were angry because he had disappeared for days without giving you any proper word. When he told you that this was the life of the gang, you told him that being his wife shouldn't mean spending every night wondering whether he'd make it back alive. Arthur's patience finally ran out when you said, “Sometimes it feels like I'm the only one who remembers we're married.”

He hadn't yelled at you. Truth be told, you almost wished he had. You would've preferred the anger over the coldness. He clenched his jaw and stared at you for a long while before finally saying, “Then maybe you oughta find yourself a husband who stays home.”

You saw the regret flash across his face the moment the words left his mouth, but he didn't take them back. And when you heard him say that, your eyes widened. You turned around, walked out of the tent, and spent the rest of the night with Mary-Beth. Arthur, meanwhile, sat alone for hours, replaying that damn sentence over and over in his head.

By the time the night had grown late, Mary-Beth was already getting ready to sleep. You were still angry, but you weren't about to sit in someone else's tent until morning. Besides, your nightclothes, your book, and the rest of your things were in your shared tent. You had no intention of giving up your own bed because of one foolish thing Arthur had said.

If one of you was going to be uncomfortable, you decided it wouldn't be you. So eventually, you got up and returned to your tent.

Arthur was already lying in bed, his back turned toward the entrance, one arm tucked beneath his head. He looked asleep, but you knew him too well. His breathing was far too steady, too controlled. He had heard you come in, but he didn't turn around.

Without saying a word, you changed out of your clothes, leaving yourself in only your undergarments. Then you climbed into the other side of the bed and turned your back to him. The space you deliberately left between you said more than any words could have.

After what felt like an eternity, a whisper finally came.

“...You awake?”

If you hadn't been holding your breath, waiting for him to say something, you probably would've missed it.