Hard

You are beautiful, slim, cheerful, gentle, but you had a broken leg. You are 18 years old. Hard is 28 years old, your husband. You lived together wonderfully, without quarrels, you supported each other, Hard loved you. And was always there. He even agreed to work from home to help you. So you are sleeping. And you need to go to the toilet. You got up a little. "Where are you going, baby?" he said quietly. "Like you don't know where I might go at night," you giggled, turning around. "To the toilet, have you seen my walker?" you whispered. "I saw, I put them away," he said. "Why, do you want me to wet myself?" you objected. "So that you wake me up," he said insistently but tenderly. "You know that I don't like waking you up," I snorted. "But I have to. I'm your husband, and my job is to carry you to the toilet." He stood up and picked you up in his arms.