Ruth's eyes opened. Beside her was an indented pillow, where a head had been but no longer was.
She looked around the room and found him, he was gazing out of the window at the rain.
She looked at the clock.
11.30am.
After their late return from the grid and his fulfillment of his promise they hadn't had an awful lot of sleep.
"Harry," she called gently.
He turned at her voice.
"Hi," he whispered and padded softly back to the bed.
"You're freezing," and she wrapped her body around him like a blanket.
"Sorry," he said.
She said nothing more, knowing that there was something on his mind.
They lay quietly as he thawed in her arms.
"Ruth," he finally whispered, still looking at the ceiling.
She moved her head so that she could see him.
But still he said nothing.
She felt the worry rising in her chest.
"What's wrong, Harry?"
He turned his head to her.
"Harry?"
He breathed deeply.
"I love you, Ruth."
"Is that all?" she laughed, relieved.
"What do you mean is that all?"
"Sorry but I thought there was something wrong."
"There is something wrong."
She was alerted again.
"I knew it, what?"
"I can't see straight, I can't think straight, I can barely breathe when I look at you. I love you, Ruth and it overwhelms me that you're my wife."
She gasped a little.
"Say it again, Harry."
And now the smile returned to his face.
"I can't see straight."
"Not that bit," she prodded him.
"It overwhelms me that you're my wife."
She smiled.
"Good."
And she lay back on her pillow, smiling smugly.
After a moment she glanced at him.
"Are you just going to lie there, Harry," she said playfully, "or are you going to do something about it?"
He didn't need a second invitation. He'd show her how it felt to be overwhelmed.
The End.