The room is dark, and I'm lying beneath the sheets. It's been a long day. I close my eyes, but despite how tired I feel, sleep won't come readily to me. I listen to Mako's footsteps as he leaves the bathroom and pads over to our daughter's room. They pause for a long moment, and I know that he is fondly watching her sleep. I'm imagining the soft smile that curves his mouth as he looks down at her in her cot. I haven't been able to smile all day.
Our room lies in between our daughter's and the bathroom. I soon hear Mako's footsteps resume, and it's not long before the covers are lifted and his weight and warmth settle behind me. He came back from work late today. He returned home to find our daughter peacefully sleeping. If only he knew how long it took me to soothe her. I feel his body shift as he draws closer to me. His arm curves lightly around my waist, and the pillows sink as he props himself up on an elbow. I feel his lips against the side of my neck, gentle and warm.
"How was your day?" he asks.
I've never known how Mako can tell whether or not I'm sleeping with a simple glance. I don't mind it, usually, but right now it's all I can do to keep irritation from rising to my face.
"Typical," I murmur.
She's been difficult for the past few days. Whenever I set her down, she demands to be picked up again. Sometimes I can't tell if she's complaining for hunger, to be changed, or simply for comfort. I've been so distracted. I went out earlier today to pick up a newspaper and a few groceries, and on the way back she cried for all the world to hear for my breast. It was embarrassing and annoying, to have so many people casting sympathetic looks in my direction.
"Our little girl's out like a light," he says softly, and I merely hum a reply.
His lips are upon my skin again, kissing a trail from my neck to my shoulder. "I've been thinking about you all day," he says, and I hear that familiar husk to his voice. It attempts to stir something within me, but the spark refuses to be lit.
I caught sight of my reflection as I passed a shop window last week. My face was lined with frustration and tiredness, shadows clinging to my eyes. I painted a depressing image, and the clothes I'd quickly thrown on to step outside did me no favours. When we got home, my daughter having finally gone to sleep after feeding, I stripped to my bra and panties and tentatively stood in front of the mirror. I didn't like what I saw.
I've always taken great pride in my body. As a girl, all that mattered to me was strength, power, definition. At first, I worried that Mako would take no joy in my shape. Republic City's women possessed a decidedly feminine grace that I lacked. I often looked at Asami with an uncertain envy. But Mako dashed my doubts the night he made me a woman. I remember so vividly the attentiveness to which he paid my form, how he gloried in my strength and shape. But pregnancy, birth and the lifestyle I've adopted since have stolen those from me. I don't feel beautiful. I don't feel sexy. He's lying when he calls me those things, surely.
I lie here as he teases my skin with his lips, wondering how he can still desire me. I don't feel desirable, haven't in days. Looking after our daughter is hard, tiring work. I make it even harder for myself by ignoring Mako's advice. The radio is constantly on in the background when he isn't at home, and I pore over the newspapers, fighting with my thoughts. I frown more than I smile. I sigh and huff more than I laugh. I avoid my reflection, and Mako's compliments become all the more ridiculous to me. Yet still, nonsensically, I can feel the sincerity of his desire in every kiss, as he breathes against my skin, as he plays his touch along my stomach and his hand slowly inches towards the hem of my nightshirt.
I'm so confused. I just want to sleep.
"No, Mako," I say, leaning away from his touch. "Not tonight."
"Babe…"
"I'm tired," I speak over him. The tone of my voice almost makes me wince as I hear it.
He suppresses a sigh, but I hear it anyway. I press my eyes shut tighter still, guilt beginning to well up within me. This isn't the first time I've refused him. I yearn for him and yet am repulsed by myself. I'm a walking contradiction, and I'm making my husband suffer for it. Long gone are our days of spontaneous passion, of forgetting all about the world outside and losing ourselves in each other, all because one morning we decided to start a family.
Mako leans over me and kisses me on the cheek. "Goodnight, Korra," he murmurs.
His voice is an open book to me. I hear his disappointment, his stifled desire, his need for me. How I wish I could throw away all my inhibitions and turn to face him as he grows still at my back, but I'm fearful. I don't know what I'll do if I see his expression fall or his hand pause as he explores my body. I've changed; does he know that? Can he accept that?
Can I?
I'm not ready to find out, not yet. So I curl into myself and remain awake behind closed eyelids. My thoughts turn to a city far away.