Magda woke up the next morning a little later than usual. She panicked for a second when she didn't feel Erik next to her.

"Erik?"

Erik rushed into the bedroom.

"Yes, my dear? Are you alright?"

"Yes, darling. Where were you? I'm not used to waking up without you still asleep next to me."

"I was in the kitchen making breakfast. You've been awake with the baby so much. I know you need your sleep."

Magda was delighted. She couldn't wait to tell her friends that her husband let her sleep in and cooked her breakfast.

"Oh, Erik, what would I do without you?"

"My dear, without you, I wouldn't be alive. Even if I had survived, I wouldn't wake up next to the love of my life every morning, or come home from work and hold my daughter in my arms. I wouldn't have a daughter to come home to. I wouldn't have anyone left to love without you. I wouldn't have a reason to wake up in the morning. Cooking you breakfast every once in a while is not enough, my love."

Magda was happy, of course. Not every woman got to have a husband who loved her so deeply, so unconditionally. Not every woman was as blessed as her to have such a thoughtful husband. But she did sometimes wonder whether Erik would be so devoted to her if it weren't for the terrible experiences in his childhood. After all, she had been the only person he still had in his life after Auschwitz. Sometimes she wondered what was love and what was terror that he'd lose yet another person he loved. And how much of his love was convenience? He didn't really have any other options after Auschwitz. She was the only one who was left in his life. She was the only person he knew who knew what it was like to live with those scars. She loved Erik, and wouldn't trade his love for anything. But that didn't mean she never wondered about it. All of that wondering was usually quelled when she looked into Erik's eyes and saw the genuine care behind them. No matter what circumstances may have driven their love, it was genuine.

"Thank you, Erik. I love you, darling."

"I love you too, Magda. So much. I should get back to the kitchen. I wouldn't want to burn anything."

"I can take over from here, darling."

"You don't have faith in my cooking abilities?" Erik joked.

Magda laughed. "That's exactly it, Erik. I'm shocked you haven't burned down this house yet today."

"Well, if you don't want that to happen, I must get back to the kitchen." At that moment, Anya began to cry. "You're busy now anyway."

Erik went back to the kitchen. Magda walked over to Anya's cradle and picked her up. After changing her, Magda sat down to feed Anya.

"Little Anya, I hope you someday find a husband who is as wonderful for you as Papa is for me. And then you can give me grandchildren. Hopefully you'll have a little daughter to hold. You'll be a Mama to your own beautiful little daughter. Then you'll know how much Mama and Papa love you, because then you'll have a baby you love more than anything in the world."

"Magda, breakfast is ready," Erik called.

Magda finished feeding Anya and walked into the kitchen. Despite their jokes, Erik was a wonderful cook. They both pretended they didn't know it was out of necessity. He had learned to cook from his mother while they were in the ghetto. She had taught him how to cook delicious meals from the few ingredients they had. It was a necessity with such short food. Magda and Erik both knew that was why he was such a good cook, but they pretended they didn't. Though it was hard, they both tried to focus on the future as much as possible, rather than the past. They often failed at that goal. Their past haunted both of them, and colored nearly every part of their lives. The way they loved each other, the way they raised Anya, the way viewed the world, all of it was changed by the horrors they had survived. But they could eat breakfast and not focus on the past. And that was enough.