Not the rare moment when he pressed a hand to his lower back from sleeping on the hard floor. She held her knees close and said nothing, unsure how to speak the guilt growing inside her. She hadn't meant to depend on him this much, but fear had its own laws, and sleep had become a dangerous place she couldn't enter alone. Elias didn't blame her, but the exhaustion worked its way into his mind. He found himself losing focus when chopping wood, nearly slicing into his hand.
He had to stop and breathe, shaking his head to clear the dizziness. He wasn't the kind of man to complain, but he could no longer ignore the toll of waking to her panicked gasps night after night. Inside the barn, Ayoka tried to stand but struggled to keep her balance. She braced her hand against the wall, breathing through the pain in her ankle. Elias stepped toward her instinctively, but she raised her hand, signaling she wanted to manage on her own.
She didn't want to add more weight to the growing strain she saw in him. "You're not ready to walk far," Elias said. "I can try," she replied softly. "I'm stronger today." Her voice carried both determination and apology.
Elias didn't argue. She needed to feel control again. He nodded and stepped back. Ayoka tested her leg with careful steps, each one slow and deliberate. It was painful, but she didn't hide it.
Elias noticed the way she gritted her teeth, but said nothing. She needed dignity as much as she needed safety. After a few minutes, her strength failed. She grabbed the door frame to steady herself. Elias stepped forward, hands ready to catch her, but she shook her head.
"I'm fine." "You're not," he said, his tone not unkind, just factual. Ayoka lowered herself back onto the blankets. Her shoulders sank with frustration, but beneath the frustration was something else, fear that she was becoming a burden he'd eventually resent. When Elias returned with fresh water, Ayoka spoke without looking at him.
"You don't sleep," she said quietly. "Each night you sit awake for me." Elias didn't deny it. He poured water into a cup and handed it to her. "You call for me," he answered.
"I'm not going to ignore that." She took the cup, but her hands trembled. "I don't want to harm you." "You're not," Elias said, though he knew the truth was more complicated. Her need wasn't harming him, but the sleeplessness was.
His body ached, his mind drifted during simple tasks, and he knew another few nights like the last ones might break more than just his routine. He sat down across from her, elbows resting on his knees. "You have nightmares," he said. "Bad ones. They wake you up fighting for air."
Ayoka looked away, jaw tense. "I try to control it." "You don't have to. It's not your fault." She glanced at him then, surprised by the sincerity in his voice.