It isn't quite as easy as that, of course. At home, you can see all of the damage to her beautiful body. The weight loss is bad enough, but her always-weak shoulder now dislocates with frightening ease, there is a permanent bump in her collarbone from a break, and the worst, a long white scar on her stomach that you put there.
You go to your knees before her without meaning to, find your tears staining her stomach and your tongue tracing the scar without intending to. Her hands are in your hair and you know she is crying too.
When she pulls you up and towards the bed, you think only of comfort. It takes little to show you how wrong you are: within moments she is pulling your shirt over your head, hips grinding against yours on the bed. She traces a path down your neck while you stroke her exposed ribs. She lets you be on top.
It doesn't take long to have her breathing hard against your neck, and when she comes, calling your name urgently, you begin to feel forgiven.
When she pulls you down and finally kisses you, you begin to forgive yourself.