more than a touch

One month had passed since that day.

Since Athena had to swallow the bitter reality of her paycheck being cut in half.

Since Asher slowly began to step deeper into her life in quiet, unassuming ways that somehow took root.

Their relationship had grown closer than ever.

They'd started learning each other's rhythms like where the favorite spoon was kept in the kitchen drawer, how to close their eyes at the same time when the lights went out, and how just being near each other brought a sense of calm that neither of them could quite explain.

But beneath all that closeness, Athena had come to understand one thing:

There was still a wall between them.

Not because they didn't belong together. But because, deep down, she knew this little life they were sharing might not last forever.

Asher still had no identity.

There were no updates from the police.

And Athena though she hated to admit it was both relieved and guilty for feeling that relief.

She didn't want to lose him.

But she didn't want to be selfish, either.

So, she threw herself into work.

Even on weekends, Athena showed up at the bakery. Sometimes to help with catering orders, sometimes to clean the kitchen late into the night. She even accepted overtime whenever possible, even though her body was starting to give out from exhaustion.

Every penny mattered. And every night, she came home with aching shoulders but still smiled when she saw the kitchen light on and the smell of warm tea waiting for her on the table.

As for Asher… he didn't work—not because he didn't want to, but because he simply couldn't.

No name. No identity. No past to anchor his future.

The world was completely new to him.

So instead, he took care of their home.

He'd walk her to the bakery in the morning and pick her up at sundown. He swept the floors, washed the dishes, sometimes overcooked the rice, sometimes undercooked it. He even planted basil in a little pot by the kitchen window. And somehow, it managed to grow overnight.

But behind all his quiet efforts, there was a constant shadow in his eyes.

Carlos.

They didn't know where the man was.

Was he lurking? Waiting?

Asher couldn't take the risk.

That night...

It was already past 10 p.m. by the time Athena finally managed to unlock the door to their old, crumbling rental. The cold wind slapped against her skin, and her beige coat could barely keep out the kind of chill that crept into your bones.

She dropped her worn-out bag beside the sofa, slowly took off her shoes, and collapsed onto the old cushions. Her back sank into the couch, head tilted toward the ceiling, breathing like she'd just come back from battle.

Reaching into her coat pocket, she pulled out a few neatly folded bills.

One by one, she laid them on the little table in front of her.

"$80 for electricity. $350 for rent. $220 for groceries. $35 for cleaning supplies, tissues, and toiletries," she muttered, jotting the numbers down carefully in a small notebook with a black pen, recalculating everything twice.

After crossing out all the expenses, what was left in her hand wasn't much. But it was enough.

More than enough, actually enough for one small thing she had been thinking about all week.

A new phone.

She smiled faintly. That tired face of hers lit up just a little.

Finally… she'd have a phone again. Something to call the police or maybe even friends.

As she scribbled down the last number, she heard footsteps from the kitchen.

A few moments later, someone stepped into the room someone she now knew better than anyone else.

Her husband, Asher.

He wore a soft gray T-shirt and loose black sweatpants.

In his hands were two things: a steaming cup of tea and a plate of golden fried chicken with crispy fries and dipping sauce.

"Asher?" Athena turned to him, surprised but clearly pleased. "Did you cook?"

Asher nodded, handing her the tea first.

"You looked completely wiped out," he said gently. "I figured... you should eat something before bed."

Athena took the tea with both hands, inhaled the scent, then gave a small smile.

"Fried chicken and fries? You serious?" she teased. "You're actually getting good at this."

Asher sat beside her, placing the plate on her lap.

"I've been practicing," he said proudly. "Lucy said I have to learn how to fry chicken without burning it."

Athena chuckled softly. The exhaustion in her body seemed to ease, just a little, just from having him there.

She took a fry, then a bite of the chicken. The skin was crisp. The seasoning? Spot on.

"Wow... this is actually good. Like, really good."

Asher smiled, clearly relieved to see her enjoying it.

"I just want to be a good husband to you."

Athena stopped chewing.

She slowly turned to him.

"Asher," she whispered.

"I mean it," he interrupted, meeting her eyes. "If I ever find out who I really am, if I can get a name, a real identity, I want to work. For you. So you don't have to keep working this hard. I want to take care of you instead."

Athena stared at him. That simple, earnest face… those words full of sincerity… it pierced her heart like nothing else.

She wanted to believe him.

She wanted to accept that dream as reality.

But reality had never been that kind.

Because deep down, Athena felt like Asher might never truly belong to her. Not forever.

She looked down, hiding the tears that threatened to spill.

Her smile stayed, but it wavered.

She didn't want to ruin this moment with fear. Not tonight.

So, she just nodded and whispered, "Thank you. That means more than you know."

She quietly continued her meal. Asher sat beside her, watching every flicker of emotion cross her face in silence.

Then, just as she popped another bite of chicken into her mouth, she suddenly felt something warm and gentle wrapping around her ankle.

She froze.

"Asher…?" she muttered, glancing down.

He had shifted now crouching in front of her, his hands gently massaging her feet, still wrapped in thin socks.

Athena paused her chewing, blinking down at him.

"Asher… you don't have to do that."

Asher stayed calm, his fingers gliding slowly over her sore feet.

"Why not?"

She sighed, placing her plate aside.

"I mean… yeah, I work hard for us, but that doesn't mean you have to massage my feet."

Asher looked up, meeting her gaze.

"I'm not doing this out of pity because you're tired," he said quietly.

She fell silent.

"I'm doing it," he continued, voice low and warm, "because I want to make you feel better even if it's just through a simple touch. And… because this is the only way I get to touch you."

Athena furrowed her brows, lips slightly parted.

She stared at him, searching his eyes for something, anything beyond the words.

"Asher…" she whispered.

He sat on his knees, now holding both of her feet with care.

His hands were steady and gentle.

"I've been learning a lot lately," he said softly. "About what husbands and wives do. About closeness. About touch… And I…"

He paused.

"I want to do all those things with you."

Athena immediately choked.

She slapped a hand over her mouth, coughing hard and grabbing a tissue from beside the couch.

Asher flinched, half rising in alarm. "Hey, are you okay?!"

She waved him off, still coughing. "I'm, I'm fine," she croaked, eyes watery, not from crying, but from sheer surprise.

Once her breathing steadied, she stared at him.

"Were you serious just now?" she asked in a whisper.

Asher nodded slowly, unsure if he should be embarrassed or just honest.

"If you're not ready, that's okay," he added quickly. "I just… wanted you to know. I want to touch you because I love you. Not out of obligation. Not because we got married to run from Carlos. But because it's you."

Athena stared at him for a long moment.

Her cheeks flushed red.

"Asher," she murmured, shaking her head, then gently pulled him up to sit beside her.

They sat face to face, their eyes full of longing but still, that invisible wall remained.

"We can't…" she began softly but the sentence was cut off by a sharp knock at the door.

They both froze.

Asher instantly turned toward the front door, his blue eyes now blazing with alertness.

His fists clenched instinctively, ready if the person on the other side meant trouble.