Toph listened as Lin's breaths grew steady and regular. She lifted her hand and cupped the girl's left cheek, as warm and smooth as an apple in the sun. She heard herself sigh and, troubled, stood up. Lin had slept alongside her mother in their narrow bed since birth, but Sokka had never stayed over this late. She walked out of the room with heavy feet.

"Is she asleep?"

"Yes." Toph began to make tea. She guessed it was a little before midnight, but it was Friday, and she had nothing to do tomorrow. A hot cup of caffeine would be welcome as she sorted her upcoming move. Hesitantly, she said, "You should probably head back."

She heard him stand up and stretch, the grunt he made when his shoulders clicked in the back, the breath he released when he dropped his arms. "I don't want to go just yet."

"It's not an option," she said icily. "I don't want – " She stopped herself, thinking what to say to cause the least conflict. "I don't want any trouble with Suki. She doesn't know where you are."

"I told her I was going to be late."

"No, Sokka. Go home."

"Toph." He wrapped his arms around her stomach, her back to him, speaking into her neck. When he felt her shiver, he smiled. "I missed you," he said, a lightness in his voice. "It's been so long since…" He kissed her ear, her cheek, turned her around to face him and found her mouth with his lips. It was the first time they had kissed in five years.

The shock of finding him there, and the realization that this would end up on the couch or floor, left Toph speechless. It's true, she often fantasized about their reunion, but it didn't mean she wanted it. The residual guilt was too much – a stink she couldn't wash away and that she didn't want to revisit. She recognized that stink now in Sokka, the smell of his sweat and the salt around his face, his pores, his skin and hands. The leather of his coat, a smell that the collar left on his shoulders and neck. The animal skin, how it smelled like the oils around his nose.

She pushed him away so that he was at arm's length, her palms still pressed against his chest. She said, "I don't know how you can do this."

He was quiet, but she felt his heartbeat grow faster. Indecision is the cause of more than half of the world's problems, thought Toph, and the idea almost made her laugh. The most complex issue could be watered down to something as mundane as a boy who never made up his mind. Then, presto, a child is born, and three lives are altered forever – possibly more lives, if they weren't careful. "You are a monster," she realized suddenly. "I don't want to play this game anymore. You aren't the one losing."

"I'm sorry," he said, his back stiffening. He put his arms up in defense and took a step back. "I really am. You're right. I…I don't know what came over me."

They stood there like this momentarily, Toph's eyelid twitching with the effort of refusing him. It was the last thing she imagined she could do – she had at first believed she wasn't strong enough, then, too strong to do it, then, she didn't know – but it was over. She was in control. And she said no.

"Can I ask you a question?" she said, picking up her glass and drinking deep. It was a relief she hadn't had expected to find tonight, and it was a welcome one.

"Shoot," he said. "Anything."

"Remember when I told you about Tao?"

Sokka was quiet.

"Remember?" she pressed.

"Yeah. I remember."

"What did you feel when I told you he was my first?"

She felt him cross his arms. "I don't know," he lied.

"You didn't like it, right?" When he didn't answer, Toph said, "You didn't like it."

"No," he said, "I didn't."

She threw her cup in the sink in triumph, metal clanking against metal. "See!" she exclaimed in a whisper. "You hated I was with someone else. In love with someone else. And that was a year before we did anything. Think about how I feel. This isn't fair to either of us. You can't just expect people to clean after you, Sokka." Her voice was low, her eyes dark. "You should leave," she said at last. "We aren't fucking tonight."

Insulted, he turned around. He opened his mouth to argue but clamped it suddenly, perhaps knowing he wouldn't win. This was not what he had expected to find. She counted the footsteps it took for him to reach the door. Twelve, she thought. Then she wondered how she expected Lin grow into a woman in such a small apartment.

When he was gone, Toph sat on the couch and cried into her hands. It was not something she did – she had never allowed herself to cry over Sokka or over her bad luck, raising a girl on a measly teacher's salary when her abilities were worth much more. And Sokka. Where was he? The mayor of a neighboring city, still in its developing years, father of twins, married to a beautiful girl his age who thought the world of him, didn't know his sins and didn't care to pry. It was picturesque enough to make Toph sick, how unfair it was, how unbalanced their fates since Lin was conceived that cold night in December, nearly five years ago. Sokka had rolled off of her, panting, the sweat on his arms beginning to vanish. It was cold and she moved closer to him. He was kissing her breasts as they laid there on their sides. "I wish you knew how much I love you," he had said, and Toph made it a point to never forget his words then, her fingers through his hair as he made his way up to her chin. "You don't know what you mean to me," he continued in a murmur. "How much I look forward to seeing you. There are nights I don't sleep, wanting you to be next to me so bad. God, Toph. It aches."

Then he left, thought Toph now. He decided he couldn't. Or maybe she left? She can't remember. She had left the city for a year when she found out she was pregnant, not wanting Sokka or Suki to know and simultaneously knowing she loved Sokka too much to kill his son or daughter. But when she returned, he hadn't attempted to find her, and she didn't go out searching for him. Instead she began teaching at the primary school, bringing Lin with her, renting out the noodle shop apartment. In the early months, when Lin was only a few months old, there were days she couldn't afford to simultaneously pay the rent and feed her daughter, and instead she had offered herself, trading sex for a place to stay. The landlord's bulky, hairy son who smelled sour, had a lisp. His father who was too old and easily tricked. There was protection available now, he always brought it. But now she always had the rent – Sokka helped – and the landlord's son had fallen in love with a girl far younger than him, thin and pretty, possibly a virgin. Toph smiled miserably, her stomach tightening. Here they were, she thought, imagining Sokka's mouth on her body, his muscles as he moved over her, the peace she felt when he held her. She counted the miseries she encountered because of him and because of Lin, but she couldn't decide yet if the ends had justified the means. They were the outcome of an affair, everyone clutching the shards of a deep and painful love.