QUEEN OF WIPS

"Oh fuck," Natasha whimpered into the quietness of your bedroom. Her hands gripped the loosened scarf atop your head, holding on for dear life, as she rode the waves of her impending orgasm. Her hips moved of their own accord, undulating in smooth, deft motions against your face.

A muffled, "Mmm," vibrated through her pussy as you ate her out with practiced ease. Your tongue swirled around her clit, teasing and torturing her for a few long moments before switching it up. You flattened your tongue, licking a broad stripe up her slit. Your nose pressed against her pelvis, your breath fanning over her as her tangy musk filled your senses. You'd been at this for a while now, and your chin was slick with her arousal, but you didn't mind. You loved the taste of her, the way her body responded to your touch.

You could feel her thighs trembling around your head, her muscles tensing as she got closer and closer to the edge. You knew her body almost as well as your own, knew exactly how to push her. You knew when she held her breath, seemingly unable to remember to breathe during the pleasure, and when she began to pant heavily, letting out little whimpers and moans that were music to your ears. She was close. So close. You could feel it in the way her walls fluttered against your tongue, in the way her hands tightened their grip on your hair. You gripped the back of her thigh, signaling for her to let out her moans and breathe.

You pushed her leg higher to her chest. Her body arched, a strangled gasp escaping her lips as you gave her clit a final, firm suck. Her walls clenched around your tongue, her hips bucking wildly as she came. You held on, riding out the storm of her orgasm, your tongue lapping at her folds as she shuddered and trembled above you. You could feel her juices flooding your mouth, and you swallowed greedily, wanting to taste every last drop of her release.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Natasha collapsed into the pillows, her body limp and sated. She buried her face in your neck, her breath hot and ragged against your skin. You held her close, her hands stroking her back as she came down from her high. "That was... intense," she mumbled into your neck, her voice hoarse.

"You're welcome," you chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple. You moved over to your side of the bed, not bothering to look for your underwear as you lay beside her. There was usually a routine to Natasha's satisfaction after sex. She would either fall into a deep and immediate slumber or spend a short, insignificant amount of time diving into whichever book was on her nightstand, the pages illuminated by a tiny reading lamp bought on Amazon.

You would wrap yourself around her, stroking her belly or hips, as you fell into your own period of bliss. This morning seemed to be a bit different. You were reconnecting, in every way possible, wondering how you'd gone without her for eight months. The past hour had been a blur of passionate embraces, kisses, and whispered words that had melted away the distance between you. You'd made love with an intensity that bordered on desperate, each touch and caress a silent promise to never let go again.

Natasha shifted in your arms, her body pliant and relaxed against yours. "You're thinking too loud," she murmured, her husky voice sending chills down your spine.

You chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. "Just trying to memorize every inch of you again. Making sure I haven't forgotten anything."

She turned in your embrace, her green eyes gleaming in the dim light of the bedroom. "I don't think you could ever forget." You sat up, moving to lie across her lap. Her fingers traced patterns on your chest, light as butterfly wings. "But tell me something," she added, her tone shifting slightly, "that you love about me."

You smiled, thinking for a moment. "Your laugh. The way it starts small, and then grows into this full, contagious thing that makes everything feel right in the world. Not to mention you don't laugh out loud often. So when it happens, you can't help but stop and listen. Then it makes me laugh."

Natasha's lips curved into a soft smile. "I missed that," she said, her fingers still tracing circles on your skin. "I missed being the one to make you laugh."

"You always have been," you replied, your voice earnest. "Even when you were being all serious and spy-like. I always want it to be you."

"Spy-like?" She questioned.

"Yes, spy-like," You nodded. "You know how you get."

"Which is vastly different from your lawyer persona?"

"It's not a persona," You rolled your eyes playfully. "It's actually who I am."

"Mhm," She hummed. "I like that suit."

"Which one?"

"All of them." Natasha weighed her options. "But there's a grey and pink one you wore. It's pretty low cut. Even for you."

You laughed. "Well, I'll wear it more often if it means I get that kind of reaction."

"Maybe just at home. I don't want anyone else seeing you in it."

Her possessiveness sent a thrill through you. "Jealous, Mrs. Romanoff?"

"Protective," She corrected, her hand sliding up to cup your cheek. "There's a difference."

You leaned into her touch, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When her lips met yours, you smiled into the kiss." I know," you said softly. "I feel the same way about you."

A comfortable silence fell between you. You could feel the tension of the past months melting away, replaced by a warm, contented peace. Natasha shifted again, her arm draped over your midsection, bringing you even closer. "Stay with me," she whispered.

"I'm not going anywhere," you promised, your arms tightening over hers. "In fact, I think I've especially been missing these." You shifted slightly to flick the metal jewelry in her nipple. "The last time we had sex." Natasha hissed as your finger squeezed gently this time. She was always so sensitive, and especially so since she'd gotten them pierced. "You wouldn't let me touch them." You hummed.

Natasha's breath hitched as your fingers toyed with the small metal barbell. Her back arched slightly, a silent invitation for more. "I was too sore," she managed to say, her voice strained with pleasure. It was that, amongst other things. "You've been patient."

"I have been," you agreed, leaning down to press a soft kiss against her breast, deliberately avoiding the sensitive peak. "But patience is overrated sometimes."

Your tongue traced a slow circle around her areola, feeling the texture change as her nipple hardened in anticipation. Natasha's fingers rested on your neck, pulling you closer. "Don't tease," she breathed out.

"I'm taking my time," You mumbled. "Think I can make you cum just by sucking them?" You glanced up at her.

Natasha's pupils dilated at your question, a slow smile spreading across her face. "You think you're that good?" she challenged, though her voice held a hint of excitement.

You raised an eyebrow, a confident smirk playing on your lips. "I know I am." Your thumb brushed over the metal barbell again, pulling another sharp inhale from her. "But we can find out for sure if you'd like."

Natasha's answer was a soft, breathy laugh that quickly turned into a gasp as your lips finally closed around her nipple. The metal was cool against your tongue, a strange and thrilling sensation. You could feel her heartbeat quicken under your touch, her body responding with an eagerness.

Your free hand slid down her stomach, fingers tracing the dip of her navel before continuing lower. Natasha spread her legs instinctively, a silent invitation that you were more than happy to accept.

"Patience is overrated," she echoed your earlier words, her fingers tightening in your hair as your fingers found the sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs. You circled it slowly, deliberately, matching the rhythm of your tongue on her breast.

Her hips began to move in time with your touch, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. You removed your fingers, forcing her to keep her thighs open as you released her breast with a pop. You used the tip of your tongue to offer the lightest bit of pressure to her nipple.

"Ugh," She managed a sound that was almost more moan than speech.

"Keep them open," You ordered softly. When she hesitated, you flicked your tongue against the metal again. "Be a good girl for me. Let me see." She whined as her thighs trembled and she forced them open again.

The view of her, spread open and vulnerable before you, sent a jolt of desire through you. Her chest was flushed, the marks of your earlier passion already fading but still visible on her neck. Her breathing was ragged, anticipation written in every line of her body.

"Good girl," you praised, your voice low and intimate. The words seemed to resonate through her as they always did, a visible shiver running down her spine.

You lowered your head again, this time switching to her other breast. Your tongue explored the newly sensitive skin, learning the responses of her body all over again. Natasha arched into your touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Your other hand moved back between her legs, fingers exploring the wet heat of her. You circled her entrance slowly, feeling her body tremble with anticipation. Her hips tried to move, to take your fingers inside, but you kept your touch light and teasing.

"Please," she whispered, the word barely audible. "Don't torture me."

"I told you I want to try," You shook your head.

Natasha let out a soft laugh, her fingers still tangled in your hair. "You're insufferable," she said, though her voice held no real annoyance. "But I love you."

"Love you too," you replied, going back to worshiping her breasts. You started with light, open-mouthed kisses, your tongue tracing circles around her areola without touching the peak. Natasha's breath hitched, her hips lifting slightly off the bed in silent invitation. You ignored it, continuing your slow, deliberate exploration.

When you finally took her nipple into your mouth, your teeth scraped gently against the sensitive skin. Natasha gasped, her back arching off the bed. You could feel the hard metal of her piercing against your tongue, a strange and thrilling contrast to the softness of her skin. You sucked gently, increasing the pressure gradually until she was writhing beneath you, her hands gripping your shoulders.

"Ughhhhh fuck," She cried. Your other hand moved between her legs, not being able to help yourself, your fingers slid through her wet folds to find her clit. You circled it slowly, matching the rhythm of your mouth on her breast. Natasha's breath hitched, her hips moving in time with your touch.

"Oh," she gasped as your fingers pressed more firmly. "God, yes."

You could feel her getting close, her body tensing as she approached the edge. You increased the pressure on her clit, your teeth grazing her nipple again. That was all it took.

Natasha cried out as she came, her body arching off the bed. Her walls clenched around your fingers, her hips bucking wildly as waves of pleasure washed over her. You held on, riding out the storm of her orgasm, your fingers and mouth working in tandem to prolong her pleasure. As the waves subsided, Natasha practically curled into herself, not knowing whether she wanted to push you away or keep them open for more. You released her breast with a soft pop, moving up to capture her lips in a gentle kiss.

She deepened the kiss, her tongue exploring your mouth with renewed passion. "I love you," She breathed. You settled into your arms again. She began to reach for you, moving to reciprocate. You placed a hand over hers and brought it to your mouth to kiss. 

“I’m okay,” you said, kissing her knuckles. “I just wanted to take care of you.” 

As she huffed, she moved to reach into the nightstand. She pulled out a long black jewelry box. "I've been meaning to give this to you, but I couldn't find a good time." 

She held it out to you, hiding her smile at your suspicious look.

“What is this?” You shook the box. It sounded light yet expensive. Naasha didn’t do cheap.“My baby loves me.” You grinned. 

“I do,” She said softly. She kissed your lips again. “Open it.”

"The sex was that good, huh?" You joked as you ran your fingers along the opening.

Natasha didn't respond to your joke. She looked up at you, and for the first time, you could see the exhaustion etched around her eyes. "That and so much more." She replied. 

You opened the box slowly, your breath catching in your throat. Inside, nestled on a bed of red velvet, was a delicate silver necklace. At its center hung a small, intricately designed locket. It was beautiful, but it was the engraving on the front that made your heart skip a beat: a simple number (2007). The year you got together. 

"It's beautiful," you whispered, your fingers tracing the delicate design.

Natasha's shoulders seemed to relax at your reaction. "I had it made for you," she said softly. "A few months back. I was going to give it to you on our anniversary." She paused, her gaze dropping to the necklace. "I know it's late, but I wanted you to have it."

"It's perfect," you said, your voice thick with emotion. "Thank you. Put it on me." You sat up, not minding the sheets falling from your body.

Natasha helped you put it on, her fingers brushing against the back of your neck as she fastened the clasp. The silver was cool against your skin, the weight of the locket a constant, comforting presence against your chest. "Open it." She urged you.

"Oh, right," You grinned. You opened the locket, straining your neck only slightly, to see the tiny ultrasound picture inside. "Nat." You said softly. You dropped your hand to your lap. 

"I know it passed, but..." She said, referring to the anniversary of one of the saddest days in your entire life. The baby you'd lost. So many years ago. Too far away to actually still count, but always in your heart, wherever you looked at your other children. The miscarriage was always in the back of your mind. A quiet ache.

"This is... this is the best gift I've ever received," you managed to say, your voice choked with emotion. You closed the locket, pressing it against your chest. "Thank you. I love it. I love you."

You closed the space between you again, not so much this time for passion but more for the quiet closeness that she had been starved of. You didn't realize how emotional you'd feel after all this time. You certainly hadn't expected to feel it after a morning spent making love with your wife.

"Baby," Natasha whispered. She kissed your shoulder, adjusting your position against the headboard, and pulling you tighter against her. "I'm here."

There was something about Natasha that always understood how you felt. She knew when you were happy. When you were angry, especially when you would break. You'd been together for so long. So many years. You'd had more birthdays and anniversaries together than you could count. You'd made a family together. She'd nearly died countless times. You had nearly died then, too. She'd disappeared for a month on a mission she was never supposed to speak of and returned covered in burns and soot. You'd had your hearts broken and healed, and then broken again. But you always, always came back to each other.

"I was so scared," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. The vulnerability in your tone surprised even you. You were supposed to be the strong one, the rock in the storm of her life. But in this moment, with her arms around you and the memory of your loss fresh in your mind, you felt anything but strong.

"I know," Natasha said softly, her fingers stroking your hair. "Me too." She didn't try to shush you or tell you that everything was going to be okay. She just held you. "You can talk about him. To me."

"After all this time, you're still sure they were a boy," You chuckled, wiping at your tears. Natasha snorted. She tended to be right about those things. "I just... I still think about it. About him. About what he would be like. What would they be like together?"

"We both do," she replied, her fingers tracing the shape of the locket through your skin. "Every day."

"I didn't get to hold him," You frowned. "Or see his tiny face in the ultrasounds. I know I should be grateful. We have our babies. Times five." You laughed. "It's just that I don't know... It's an ache that I don't know how to soothe."

"I wish I could've made it stop," she said quietly. "I wish I could have taken the pain away from you."

"You did," You assured her. "You were there."

You lay there for a long time, just holding each other. It was a wound that had never fully healed, a scar that throbbed with a dull pain on days like this. But it was also a reminder of what you had overcome, of the strength you had found in each other.

"I love you," you said finally, breaking the silence.

"I love you too," Natasha replied, her lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "More than you know."

You shifted slightly, your head resting on her shoulder. "Remember when we first started trying?" you asked, a small smile playing on your lips. "You were so serious about it. You had charts and schedules and vitamins."

Natasha laughed. "I was a spy on a mission," she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I was determined to put a baby in you."

"That you were," You nodded. "Can you imagine us with seven? We're already falling apart as is."

"I would have been a very tired mother," she admitted, her fingers tracing patterns on your back. "But I think we would have managed."

"We always manage," You said, your voice soft with affection.

Natasha's expression softened, her eyes meeting yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache. "We do," she agreed. "Because we have each other."

You leaned in and kissed her, a soft, lingering kiss. When you finally pulled apart, you were both breathless. "That's the last of the sad stuff," You said, your forehead resting against hers. "I don't want to cry anymore today."

"Good," she replied, her thumb stroking your cheek. "I have plans for us today, and none of them involve tears."

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. "Oh, really? And what kind of plans might those be?"

Natasha grinned mischievously. "Well, our youngest daughter's tenth birthday is tomorrow. So we have to get planning. And we have a counseling appointment at ten.” 

“Oh, don’t remind me.” You sighed. “Can’t we just skip it?”

“You really want to?” She asked. 

“No, we can take it on.” You nodded. “Think we can sleep a little longer?”

“I’m betting on it,” Natasha got comfortable in teh sheets. “But I would like some of the cheesecake you made last night.”

“That was the bomb,” You nodded. “Oh, and maybe a bit of ice cream?”

“At six in the morning?” 

“Oh, that’s where you draw the line?” You shook your head. You stood up, stretching along th bed before finding your panties. You pulled them on and then the oversized t-shirt. You began to pad out of the room, opening and unlocking the door, only to find Luke lying in front of it. He was curled into a fetal position, one thumb in his mouth, and the other hand gripping Midnight’s fur softly. 

The dog raised her head at you before lowering it again. 

“Tash,” You sighed. “You have a child out here.” 

You knelt, feeling Luke’s skin for any signs of a high temperature, before tapping him gently. “Luke, buddy.” You said softly. 

As if he weren’t asleep at all, his eyes fluttered open. 

“Mommy?” He questioned. 

“Hey, baby, what are you doing out here?”

Luke sat up slowly, Midnight moving with him. "My jacket."

"You were sleeping outside our door because of your jacket?" Natasha asked from behind you. She had the decency to wear more clothes. 

Luke looked at her. Then at you.

Then back at her.

Luke shook his head. "I couldn't sleep."

"Bad dream?" Natasha asked.

Another shake.

"Then what?"

Luke picked at a loose thread on his pajama pants. Finally, in a voice so small it almost broke your heart, he admitted, "I wanted to cuddle."

Neither of you said anything.

Luke immediately looked embarrassed. Then his little lip poked out. “I can’t find my red jacket.”

Natsaha closed her eyes, mentally slapping herself for forgetting. “Your red jacket is in the hamper. I completely forgot to start the laundry.”

“I knocked, but you didn’t answer,” He said. “So Midnight and I went to sleep right here.”

You didn’t want to question how long he’d been outside your door. You prided yourself on being discreet, especially with your bedroom being tucked off in a hallway behind the kitchen. 

The two of you had been so wrapped up in each other that neither of you had heard him.

"Oh, baby."

Before Natasha could move, you reached forward and scooped him up. At five years old, he was getting heavier every day, but he immediately wrapped himself around you like a koala. You carried him to the kitchen and set him on the counter. You made quick work of washing your hands before grabbing him again. You glanced at Natasha, and she was on it, grabbing two water bottles and a chocolate milk box from the fridge. 

You sat on the couch, propping your feet against the ottoman, as Luke lay against your chest. 

“I don’t wanna go to school,” He said. Again, you and Natasha shared a smile. 

“Well, you need to go to school to learn,” You reminded him. “Today’s Friday anyway.”

“I already know stuff,” He mumbled. 

“Well, how will your grandpa drop you off if you don’t go?”

“Deda’s dropping me off?” His eyes lit up thinking about his morning ritual whenever he went to school with Alexei. It usually involved some sugary breakfast. 

You groaned. “There it is.”

“There what is?” He asked innocently.

“The betrayal,” Natasha said dryly. “Your mommy and I spend ten minutes comforting you, and all it takes is one mention of Alexei, and suddenly we're chopped liver.”

“I don't know what chopped liver is.”

“You don't need to,” Natasha muttered.

Luke snuggled deeper into your chest, a sleepy grin appearing on his face.

“Can we get donuts?”

“No,” both of you answered immediately.

“See?” Natasha pointed. “Your grandfather is a bad influence.”

“He lets me get the chocolate ones.”

“Exactly.”

Luke considered this. “I think that means he's nice.”

You laughed as Natasha rolled her eyes. “Your deda is incapable of telling children no.”

“That is not true,” Alexei's voice boomed from the kitchen.

All three of you turned. When had he gotten there?

He stood there with a coffee mug in one hand and what appeared to be three strips of bacon in the other. “You gave James ice cream before soccer practice.”

“That was strategic.” You defended. “The kid needed motivation without being overindulged.”

“It was vanilla.”

“Exactly. Vanilla is not exciting enough to affect athletic performance.”

“That's not how sugar works,” Natasha sighed.

Alexei waved a dismissive hand before turning his attention to Luke. “You are coming with me this morning?”

Luke sat up immediately. “Yes.”

“Then we should leave early.”

“Why?”

Alexei looked around dramatically before leaning closer.“For reasons.”

Luke gasped. “What reasons?”

“Secret reasons.”

You watched Luke's entire body vibrate with excitement. He lifted from your lap and bounced. 

Natasha buried her face in her hands. “You're taking him for pancakes.”

“No.”

“Alexei.”

“No.”

“You absolutely are.”

Alexei smiled. Luke smiled—the exact same smile. And suddenly you understood why neither of them could be trusted.

Luke looked up at you. “Can I go?”

You pretended to think about it. “Hmmm.”

“Mommy.”

“Hmmm.”

“Please.”

“You know,” you said thoughtfully, “I think school might be very difficult today if someone is full of pancakes.”

“Mommy.”

“Maybe impossible.”

“Mommy.”

You finally laughed and kissed the top of his head.

“You can go.”

“Come on,” Luke rounded the couch to pull his grandfather toward the stairs. “You can help me find clothes, but not my red jacket. Mama forgot it in the laundry.”

Natasha groaned. 

“Sure, maybe I can help your mom find clothes next,” Alexei mumbled as he followed Luke to the second floor. 

“I have clothes on,” You shook your head. 

“That t-shirt isn’t covering much,” Natasha slapped your thigh playfully. 

—-----------------

Dr. Aris’s office felt different this time around. The air felt breathable; it hadn’t felt like that last week when you’d come in. It was crazy to think that it had truly only been a short time between sessions. You felt as if you were healed. You’d spent more time with your wife this week than you had in months. You’d talked. You’d been scared straight, so to speak. 

“So, ladies, how has it been?” She asked, looking up from her notepad. 

“Good,” Natasha asked. 

“Actually, good,” You agreed. 

Dr. Aris smiled slightly. "That's wonderful to hear." Her smile lingered for a moment before she asked, "What was different?"

"We've been spending more time together," Natasha finally said.

"Intentionally," you added.

Dr. Aris nodded. "And what does that look like?"

You thought about the laundry room. The late-night conversations. The card game. The questions. 

"We've been talking more," you said.

"A lot more," Natasha added. “Your homework has helped.”

"That's great." Dr. Aris made a note. "And how has that felt?"

Natasha laughed softly. "Weird."

You laughed too. "Terrifying."

"Terrifying?" Dr. Aris repeated.

You rubbed the back of your neck. "I think I came in here last time expecting some grand explanation for why we got here. Something dramatic. A smoking gun." You shrugged. “There’s really no true rhyme or reason. Well, just one, I’m thinking. We got busy," you continued. "Then we got tired. Then we got hurt.”

Dr. Aris looked between you. "You know what's fascinating?"

Neither of you answered.

"You both entered the first session convinced the other person had withdrawn first."

The realization hung in the air.

"You thought Natasha stopped wanting you." She pointed toward you. "And Natasha thought you stopped wanting her. A lot of couples come into the practice with their egos, fears, and everything under the sun." Now she sat back. "Neither of you was actually rejecting one another. You were protecting yourselves from rejection." She looked down at her notes again. “How has communication changed?”

“With the homework you assigned,” You said. “Finding something you enjoyed with your partner during the day. I don’t think we’ve ever sat down and explicitly said it?” You looked to Natasha. “No,” She shook her head. “We’ve had moments here and there. Long conversations but never a simple ‘I enjoyed this moment with you here in this time.’” She paused. “At least not in a long while.”

“And why do you think that is?”

“Hmm,” Natasha thought long and hard. “We’re just too busy most days. There’s always something that needs taking care of. Something always needs to be done, and it’s understandable. We chose this life.” 

Dr. Aris nodded, though not in complete agreement.

"Busy is certainly part of it," she said. "But I see couples with ten children who still find ways to connect. I see couples with demanding careers who still find ways to connect. So I don't think busyness is the whole answer."

You needed her to elaborate a bit more. 

"Busy is often the circumstance," she continued. "The question is what happened underneath it."

Natasha's brow furrowed. Dr. Aris looked toward you. "Let's say Natasha comes home from teaching her classes. The kids are loud. Dinner needs to be made. There's laundry. A million things competing for attention. In that moment, what keeps you from turning to her and saying, ‘I liked hearing your laugh today'?"

The answer felt embarrassingly simple.

"It feels silly."

Natasha looked over at you.

You shrugged. "It does. It feels obvious. We know we love each other. We know we enjoy each other. So why say it all the time?"

Dr. Aris smiled."Ah."

The sound made you immediately suspicious."What?"

"That's a very long-married answer."

Natasha laughed despite herself. "It is?"

"It is." Dr. Aris crossed one leg over the other. "Early in relationships, we narrate everything. We tell each other every thought. Every observation. Every feeling. If we don’t, we’re convinced the other person is not that into us. Maybe they’re seeing someone else, or maybe they’re just an idiot." She gestured between the two of you."Then we become comfortable. Comfort is good. Comfortable is safe. But eventually, many couples start assuming."

You found yourself looking at Natasha. She'd gone strangely still.

"I think," she began slowly. "I think I stopped saying things because I thought if I had to ask for them, they didn't count."

Dr. Aris nodded immediately. "Now that's interesting."

Natasha looked down at her hands. "If I told her I needed more affection, then she was only doing it because I asked. If I told her I wanted more time together, then she was only doing it because I asked. It felt pathetic."

Your heart sank. "Nat."

"I'm being honest."

"No, I know." You rubbed your palms together. "I just didn't know that."

"Because I never said it."

Dr. Aris let the silence settle. "And you?" she asked, turning toward you.

You took a breath. "I think I stopped asking because I was afraid of hearing no."

Natasha's head immediately snapped toward you. "What?"

"Every time you were tired. Every time you rolled over. Every time you said maybe tomorrow. It wasn't your fault. You were exhausted. But after a while..." You shrugged. "I stopped wanting to find out."

The realization crossed Natasha's face in real time.  Dr. Aris finally broke the silence. "See, now we're getting somewhere. Y/n, I know you said a pain point for both of you is your work. Why do you think that is?”

You pushed the sleeves of your cardigan up to your elbows. “I used to say I don’t know. I work in corporate law now. Nine to five. Paid Time Off. Workable caseload. Ideally, this is what I was running from when I quit as ADA in New York.”

"You quit because of the workload?"

"Partly." You nodded. "We were getting around to adopting Luke. Natasha hadn't retired yet. One of us needed to be home with them."

"And that was a mutual decision?"

"Completely."

Dr. Aris nodded. "And what did you think you were gaining?"

"Time." You said. "Time with my family. Time with my wife. We were living in New York. The kids had no privacy. The house felt too small. Everything felt cramped."

"And did you get those things?"

You hesitated."Some of them."

Dr. Aris waited.

"I think the version of me who left New York would be surprised."

"In what way?"

You laughed softly. "A lot of ways."

"Pick one."

You looked down at your hands."How far apart we got."

Natasha looked at you.

"I stopped telling her things about my life. The birth control. Getting my nails done with Leslie. Little things."

You shook your head."I can take accountability for that. I should've told her. I just... didn't."

"And why didn't you?"

You frowned.

Because for the first time, you weren't sure. Finally, you sighed."It was easier not to have the conversations. I feel like I'm in this constant cycle of pushing myself too hard at work, burning out, and then coming back to... nothing."

"What does 'nothing' mean?" Dr. Aris asked.

You opened your mouth. Then closed it again."I don't know." There was a long pause. "Cara leaving for college was a new adjustment."

Natasha's gaze softened."I didn't realize how much that affected you."

"I didn't either."

You rubbed your palms together. "Then I'd come home and..." You laughed humorlessly. "I truly don't know."

Dr. Aris leaned forward slightly."When you say you came home to nothing, do you mean an empty house?"

You shook your head. "No. I think I felt empty. It wasn't just Cara leaving. It wasn't just work. I felt this overwhelming emptiness. Like, I didn't know how to connect anymore."

Your eyes drifted toward Natasha. "We fight. We have sex. We make up." You shrugged. "That was the cycle for a while. I mean, when was the last time we took a vacation together?"

Natasha let out a breath."I thought this would be the season where we found each other again."

You looked over. She was staring at her hands.

"The kids got older. They needed us less. We finally had more time. "A sad smile crossed her face."And every time I looked up, you were working." She immediately shook her head. "That sounds unfair."

"No," Dr. Aris said gently. "It sounds honest."

Natasha sighed. "I didn't tell her I missed her."

"Why not?"

The question hung there. Eventually, Natasha shrugged.

"Because I wanted her to want it too. I didn't want to ask my wife to spend time with me."

Dr. Aris nodded slowly. "So y/n stopped asking because she was afraid of rejection." She looked toward Natasha."And you stopped asking because you thought asking would make it less meaningful."

Neither of you argued. Because neither of you could. Dr. Aris glanced at the clock.

"We're almost out of time.” She closed her notebook."The good news?" For the first time all hour, she smiled. "Neither of you seems particularly interested in staying distant."

That earned a laugh from Natasha. "No."

"No," you agreed.

"Good." Dr. Aris stood. "Then this week, I don't want either of you trying to fix the marriage."

You immediately frowned. "That's literally why we're here."

Dr. Aris laughed. "I know." She gathered her things.

"For homework, Natasha, I want one direct request a day."

Natasha groaned.

"No hints. No, hoping she'll figure it out." Then she looked at you. "And y/n, I want you to hear the request you're being given. Not the criticism you think is hiding underneath it." You winced.

Fair. 

“Also, take some time for yourself, y/n. No work. No kids. No wife. Just one hour to yourself.” Dr. Aris opened the office door. "Most couples think marriages struggle because of the big conversations they aren't having." She paused. "In my experience, it's usually the little ones."