I knew this conversation was going to happen.

"Listen, I'm sorry you were put through this"

No you are not. This sentence echoes through my mind whenever she has the audacity to say that, as if I am some child she can just say sorry to. Not insincere, just not responsible, never owning the action and accepting the consequences. I knew we would have to argue about this eventually, especially if we plan to have kids, but we both have had a long set of weeks, and the hour approached one in the morning, so she could use the rest. It's an important argument we must have but I don't think we have the stamina to have it.

"The steak is pretty good." She muffled between the half chewed steak pieces in her mouth. If it were not for the mood set in the air of what led to this moment, I would say she looked rather cute, a composed woman scarfing down leftover steak, chicken, vegetables and potatoes. I did not serve her usual "victory feast" I make for her returning home after a long mission, since her diet on this mission left her scrounging for anything edible. She would have to slowly let her stomach grow again before she could eat as much as she had. This is in no way of saying my wife in any way non mannered, it's just that her training and missions often led her to burn off more calories than she could chew. I manage her diet when she gets home, not to say she can't manage herself, but I had studied a lot on dietary nutrition so I can accommodate to whatever condition she is in. If the area she was in had provided little meat, I would let her slowly let her progress in her meat consumption. It was not until I saw my wife's eyes looked deep inside me

"Are you okay?" My wife had stared into my soul, desperately grabbing to my forearm. I should be asking the same, yet I know that is not what she wants right now.

"I'll be fine" I swore to her I would never lie to her. That was the first lie I have told in my marriage. I reached around her to give her the contact she needed from a familiar person who loved her. It was not so much as what happened on the mission that had left a mark, but rather the ones behind left behind at home that felt the impact of what had happened.

It was 4pm not even a month ago when two men in green uniforms arrived at my door. We owned a small residence in the same subdivision as our childhood homes. To be honest, I never felt comfortable being this close to my childhood home, grown up and married, yet can run home to mom and dad in less than an hour. Alas my wife loves to call this place home, but her heart says "Sanctuary" and "Stability". It may be since she has seen so many places in her life for the wrong reasons. In fact I don't think she ever traveled to another country without thinking critically like she is on a mission. Planning our honeymoon was exhausting in finding a spot she felt comfortable, we ended up in Austria. She found it charming when I proclaimed I had Vienna sausages in Vienna. I do love her though.

"I'm full" Kim proclaimed as she was still holding my hand and scarfing her last morsel to her thinning gullet. I am actually relived she has such an appetite; maybe her diet does not need too much management this time around. I let her get washed up and get dressed for bed. I had been in my pajamas the whole time.

It's not every night that your wife appears on the news weeks after you were told she died during a mission, to uncover a conspiracy by faking her death to save an entire country. I barely had time to fully address the situation. She came back several days after being discovered alive and triumphant, mostly for investigation and celebration and other clearances. You know the whole spy organization thing.

I had waited for five hours while she was being tackled by sobbing relatives, joyful parents that now know their daughter is alive and her brothers making promises for meeting up at bars she knows will be compromised. It was not until we arrived home from the airport to her childhood home to the dinner table to bed. Speaking of bed, I can no longer watch any spy movies without laughing as if it was parody, especially when it came to the ending. The "Classics", 1960s pictures that had a heavy amount of dissonant values towards the depiction of foreigners and the idea of the "girl" the spy seduces usually has the ending having the main couple snogging triumphant over those who wished to do them harm as fireworks blasted through the background. My wife dropped face first into the mattress sideways snoring like a bear. I positioned her posture so she doesn't wake up to even more pain than she already has endured. I know I need to have that conversation soon, but to have my wife sleeping beside me is all I need to be content for now. Somehow, I know we can make this possible.