For the first time in years, Kaz Brekker, the bastard of the barrel, has felt what love is like. It came from his wife, a woman he married a year ago out of an arranged marriage for money

His wife was pacing around their home, worried sick. She visibly relaxed when he came through the door, hugging him suddenly before scolding him and tearing into him about doing that to her. She was ranting on about he couldn't just leave like that anymore, it terrified her to think that he may never come home one day. Kaz has never felt that before, someone worried about him being home, coming home to someone. In the midst of all of his wife's panicked talking, he just stopped her with a single gloved finger to the lips. "I'm sorry, Dove." Kaz muttered apologetically.

"I'll promise to do better about being transparent about what I'm doing." Kaz looked sincere and a bit confused as his wife simply nodded, her brows furrowing and eyes glazing over. She let out a small whimper, hugging him tight, something else he's foreign to the concept of and just pat her head. He's gotten over the major hurdles of his haphephobia, but this is something he's not good with: affection, but for his Dove, he'd do better.