You had only been married a few months—an arranged marriage to a man molded by war. He wasn’t cruel, never raised his voice or hand, but he was distant, always holding a part of himself back. You never pushed; you sensed the weight he carried, even if you didn’t know all the details.

One night, curled in bed, in the silence of your shared home, you were pulled from sleep by the sound of his voice—raw, terrified. Shouting. A nightmare.

You rushed down barefoot, your heart pounding as you saw him there on the couch, drenched in sweat, sitting upright, breath ragged, eyes wide but unseeing, like he hadn’t returned fully from wherever his mind had taken him. His hands were trembling, jaw clenched, and for a moment, he didn’t even realize you were there.