Anna wiped it through her face again, stood up and held out her hand to him: "You have to get up John. Your knee will become stiff again and I can see that you are in pain. You shouldn't have sat down on the floor." He looked up at his wife: "For you, I would sit here all night." She smiled briefly. John reached for her hand. How much strength there was in this petite person. He finally got up with difficulty, not without grimacing again and again. Anna reached under his forearm and helped him limp to the fireplace. There he sat down on the sofa, Anna moved the stool and put his leg on it. Warmth flowed through him with every touch of his wife. How much he had missed her.
Anna finally sat down - not next to him on the sofa as usual, but - in the armchair next to it and pulled a blanket around her. She looked into the fire. John watched her for a while. Finally, he said quietly, "I'm sorry."
Surprised, his wife turned her head: "There is nothing YOU have to feel sorry for, John. Not you. I must be sorry and it does. Real. I have brought so much suffering upon you and this marriage." John shook his head: "I'm sorry that you were obviously so afraid of me, of what I was going to do to you, that you couldn't talk to me. I didn't know I had this effect on you. I don't want you to be afraid. Of nothing, but certainly not of me. I couldn't forgive myself if you lived in fear with me."
Anna looked at him briefly and then looked into the fire again: "I was never afraid of you John. Really never. I could always tell you everything. Talk to you about everything. I always had the feeling that we were on the same level..." "We're still doing that, Anna," she interrupted John. Anna shook her head: "That night... It happened because I didn't listen to you. Because I thought I knew better than a man. As my own husband. My mother always warned me that I had to be careful. That one man is in charge. Just like my father. He was in charge, he doesn't tolerate contradictions and my mother knew that. She would never have dared to contradict him or resist him in any way. A man's word is a command. Women have no opinion of their own. Always be diligent and obedient. And then you came and everything was different. You wanted to hear what I had to say. What I think, what I wish for, dreams. I was allowed to have a say. Co-decided. You made me more courageous. You wanted to hear when I had a different opinion. It made me arrogant. Instead of listening to you, I thought I knew better. Better than my own husband. Now I'm a fallen woman and you would have the right to punish me for my disobedience, to beat me. To show me where my place is in marriage and ..." "Stop talking like this, Anna"; John interrupted her angrily: "You are my wife and I love you. I would never raise a hand against you, or punish you in any way. I saw my mother suffer at the hands of my father. I saw the fear in her eyes. I never wanted you to ever look at me like that. But you did. When I told you in the hallway today to come back to the cottage. When I talked to you like that, I saw this fear in you and when you were sitting on the floor too. I am so unspeakably sorry. I never want to see that fear in you again. You're smart. And I want you to have your own opinion. That you tell me. I don't want you to hide, to make yourself small. You enrich my life Anna. And you are not a fallen woman. Not for me. The thing that gives you... was his fault. The guilt of a monster. But never yours..." "But...," Anna wanted to interrupt him, but John wouldn't let him: "No but. I know that women are accused of wanting it, of provoking it. That men are told that it is their right to have taken what they are entitled to. And I know what happens to women who have experienced something like this. They end up in women's asylum or worse. But I know you, my Anna. I know you would never have provoked something like that. He had no right to impose himself on you. You haven't done anything wrong. You are and will remain my wife and I love and respect you and ..."he paused for a moment and then continued: "I would love to hold you in my arms again."
Anna had listened to her husband in silence. Tears ran down her cheeks. He still loved her. He would not cast them out. And she longed so much for his closeness. But would she be able to stand it? Slowly, the blanket wrapped around her, she got up. With uncertain steps she stepped closer to the sofa. John had put an arm on the backrest and was watching her. She sat down next to him. John turned his upper body and looked at her questioningly: "May I?" She nodded timidly. Then John carefully closed his arms around her. Anna inhaled his scent. How she had missed him. She slid closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. Tenderly, John pulled her closer into his embrace. Anna began to sob, clinging to him like a drowning woman. It shook her whole body. John held his wife, stroked her back lovingly over and over again, kissed her head and whispered to her how much he loved her.
They sat like this all night until they fell asleep.
Anna woke up at some point because she was getting cold. John still held her in his arms, but it wasn't uncomfortable. A glance at the fireplace showed her that the fire had almost completely burned down. Carefully so as not to wake him, she broke away from his embrace and stood up, added wood and waited until the fire burned evenly again. Then she took another blanket and spread it over her sleeping husband. She looked at him lovingly. How could she have doubted him? How could she have insinuated that he would hurt her? She loved him more than her own life. Carefully, so as not to wake him, she slid back next to him on the sofa and snuggled up to him. How could she have believed that she would never be able to bear his closeness again? Her gaze was fixed on the flames that slowly ate their way along the wood. Then her eyes closed again.
She was awakened when she smelled the smell of tea. Tired, she opened her eyes and looked around. She was now lying on the couch, covered. Slowly she straightened up and heard her husband in the kitchen.