An Orphan

Cruden Tiberias honored his word. His wife was his responsibility. His to care for and pamper. He'd tolerate all of her outbursts and tantrums. He expected nothing in return. He didn't know when this revelation dawned on him. Standing at the top of the stairs, he could only believe himself to be a fool.

"Cruden." His name left her mouth breathless and smooth. As if his name was only hers to utter in this lifetime. Hers.

"Hello, darling." Cruden slid his palms into his pocket, his fingers itching for a cigarette. Her expression was unreadable, but he saw through her easily. Her lips wobbled, her eyes were teary, and she was one sniffle away from breaking down.

Look at the mess she had gotten herself into. Cruden would be cleaning up after her again. Yet when she dashed down the stairs and practically leaped into his arms, he found himself to be a janitor with ease. He'd fix this mess of hers if it meant being enveloped in her rosy scent all over again.