"You're so lucky to be able to bear her child," I knew the neighbors had been telling him, followed by his awkward chuckle. "And she is lucky to have you too. Such a lucky couple you two are."

He could never answer those properly except with a smile and a laugh that came too fast, denying the fact that I never loved him.

But I knew sometimes they also added, "Oh, I hope she's always well. Being the queen must be hard." They said if as if all of this scenario was theirs to understand.

Bump.

I gasped. I put my hand on my belly. No matter how I cursed how this world had turned to be, the little human inside of me sometimes reminded me of my responsibilities. Just like how Ymir always did.

"Are you waiting for the sunset?"

Speak of the devil.

"I remember you once said that you always find that the sunset was as beautiful as the sunrise," she lightly added.

Silence.

"Okay. I'll take that as a 'no.'"

Ymir then sat on the steps, watching the scenery right from my porch while I watched her dark hair played by the gentle breeze. She wore her hair down today. I used to tease her all the time every time she had worn it down just to be able to play with it.

She just sat there, knowing that I might have not wanted to talk. I wondered how she wasn't mad at me for ignoring her like this. She was looking at the same spot I had been staring at for minutes.

She was silent for a while, until she said, "Do you remember when we had to stay in that ugly cabin for a month?"

I didn't respond.

"You kept asking me to slip away before dinner just because you want to watch the sunset." I could hear the smile in her tone. "Then later Sasha would ask you where we'd been."

I waited for her sarcastic remarks.

But she sighed. "She deserved a better life. She even deserved a better death."

For a second I was confused why she knew about Sasha, but then I remembered that she had been there when I visited her grave for the first and the last time. I must have mentioned how she had died there.

I pushed away the thought of death, because Ymir wasn't helping. The numbness was doing that job for me this time.

"Historia," she started again after another minute of silence. "Even after the child is born, would you still watch the sunset with me?"

I dragged my eyes to see the sunset she had been staring at, orange and yellow and a dash of pink blurred into one ray of light, but there was something wrong about it. It wasn't the sunset I had called beautiful.

"Ah, it's time to go," she suddenly said without waiting for my reply. "Your husband is coming."

She was right. He was walking back home with his working tools. I could see his right hand bringing a basket of apples he had promised. He said his mother would bake us an apple pie.

"Make sure you have that delicious pie, Your Majesty," Ymir said, a hint of playfulness in her voice.

How could she know about the pie?

"I lo—"

"Wait, Ymir."

Then our eyes met. She was as surprised as I was. Then I suddenly realized what was missing from the sunset. I suddenly remembered that the most beautiful sunset that I had seen that day was the one reflected in her eyes.

Then I saw her smile. "I love you, Your Majesty," she whispered.

And with that, it hit me.

I missed her. I missed her words. I missed her voice. I missed her smile. I missed her touch. I missed everything about her.

I knew she would be gone as soon as I blinked, but I did anyway. She disappeared along with the orange sunlight in her eyes.

"Historia?" another voice said. "Hey, are you okay?" The blond man kneeled down in front of me, abandoning the apples on the porch. Thin layer of sweat and some dirt tainting his face.

"I'm fine," I muttered flatly. This was new. Why did he ask me that?

"You're crying," he took my hand and I let him. "Are you hurt?"

Oh.

Tears had come without my permission again. That was probably why Ymir had been all blurry when I had looked at her. I had thought I had been losing my sight—or maybe my mind.

But I failed to answer him. Because I wanted Ymir back. I wanted her to hold me instead of him. Sometimes when I closed my eyes at night, I still heard her voice singing that lullaby for me. Sometimes when this man insisted on comforting me, I closed my eyes and saw her instead. Sometimes when he said that he loved me, she's the one that I heard. Even now when this good man was kneeling in front of me just to make sure that I was okay, Ymir was the only one in my mind.

I felt guilty—both to Ymir and him.

"It's the sunset," I said, doing the least thing I could for him. I waited for several minutes until the sun nearly set, because I didn't want to share the sunset with anyone else.

"Huh?"

"The sunset. It was beautiful."