Eternal Ephemerals

Perfect love

She sat on the living room floor, her back slumped against the couch, legs sprawled haphazardly in a way that betrayed the weariness she felt but couldn't name. Early afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains, scattering warm, uneven patches of light on the wooden floor, but even the sun seemed distant today. Ruby lay with her head on her lap, the dog's soft breathing a gentle rhythm beneath her fingers, while Sapphire sat pressed against her side, watchful and steady. Both dogs looked at her with that quiet understanding only animals seem capable of, their gaze unwavering, as if they could sense the storm inside her even before she could make sense of it herself.

A sigh escaped her lips, a long exhale that sounded louder in the empty room. Her fingers moved mechanically through Ruby's fur, clinging to its softness like it was the only thing keeping her from unraveling completely. "How do you do it?" she whispered, her voice fragile, the question meant more for herself than for them. Ruby lifted her head just slightly, her eyes soft but intent, while Sapphire nudged her with his nose, his touch cool, grounding her.

The morning had felt like a small betrayal. A small fight that shouldn't have mattered but somehow it did, and now, hours later, its edges were sharper, cutting deeper as the day stretched on in aching silence. She couldn't even remember what had started it—some offhand comment about the dishes, maybe, or a sigh too heavy with frustration. It didn't matter now. What mattered was the aftermath, the slow, suffocating churn of regret that made her chest feel tight, as if her heart had clenched into a fist.

It always surprised her how much damage such small moments could cause. How the sting of a careless word could linger like a bruise, tender and raw, long after the words themselves were forgotten. It wasn't the argument that haunted her now, but the way her husband had looked at her before he left for work—his face drawn, his eyes flickering with unspoken things. He hadn't said goodbye. He hadn't kissed her. And maybe that's what hurt most of all—the quiet withdrawal, the way they both retreated into their separate corners, unsure of how to bridge the gap.

Her eyes stung as she leaned her head back against the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. The house felt too still, too quiet, every creak of the floor or distant hum of the fridge only amplifying the emptiness inside her. Why did it always have to be this way? They loved each other, she knew that, but lately it seemed like love wasn't enough. Love wasn't stopping the slow erosion of the tenderness they once shared, as if life itself was steadily wearing them down, like rocks caught in the relentless pull of the tide.

Beside her, Ruby shifted, her body pressing closer, her weight a welcome comfort. Sapphire's head rested gently on her shoulder, his presence solid, his silent reassurance doing more for her than any words could. That was the thing about dogs—they didn't need explanations. They didn't need apologies or clarifications. They just stayed, offering their love without condition, without hesitation.

She closed her eyes, feeling the wet sting of tears pressing against her lids, her chest tight with an ache she couldn't quite name. The world of people was so much harder. People wanted words. People wanted understanding and forgiveness, and sometimes, even when you wanted to give those things, it felt impossible to find the right way to offer them. People left you with questions. With wounds that never fully healed.

Her husband hadn't meant to hurt her; she knew that. And she hadn't meant to hurt him either. But that didn't change the way they'd both walked away, both carrying a sadness too heavy to speak of, a sadness neither knew how to lighten. Why did it always feel like they were walking a tightrope, one small misstep away from a fall they wouldn't know how to recover from? Maybe that's what scared her most—this feeling that one day, they'd reach a point where they wouldn't know how to find each other again.

She envied Ruby and Sapphire in that moment. Their simplicity. Their ability to just be, without the complications that weighed down human relationships. They didn't need her to explain her sadness. They didn't ask for reasons or make her feel guilty for her silences. They simply existed beside her, a quiet, unwavering presence that reminded her she wasn't alone, even when everything else felt too heavy to bear.

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she let it fall, not bothering to wipe it away. She was tired of trying to hold everything together, tired of pretending that things didn't hurt when they did. Her hands tightened slightly in Ruby's fur, the familiar warmth grounding her in the present, pulling her away from the spiral of thoughts that threatened to drown her. Was it really so hard to just love each other without all the noise? Without the weight of expectations and disappointments?

Her mind drifted back to her husband—the way his shoulders had tensed, the way he'd avoided her eyes before he left, as if he didn't know how to say what he needed to say. Did he feel this too? This helplessness? This aching uncertainty about how to fix what felt broken? She imagined him now, sitting at his desk at work, the weight of their morning still hanging between them like a thick fog. Maybe he was just as lost as she was, just as unsure of how to make things right.

She sighed again, this time deeper, as if trying to release some of the tension knotted in her chest. "You're my treasures," she whispered, her voice breaking on the last word. Ruby licked her hand softly, as if to say, I know. And in that moment, she believed it. They were her anchors, her steady points in a world that often felt too chaotic, too confusing.

She thought of her husband again, his face etched in her memory, and felt a pang of something—guilt, sorrow, love, all tangled together in a knot too tight to unravel. Maybe it was time to stop waiting for the perfect moment, the perfect words. Maybe it was enough to just reach out, to say I'm sorry even when you weren't sure what exactly you were apologizing for. To say I love you not because it would fix everything, but because it mattered. Because it was true.

She'd call him later. She wouldn't wait for him to call her first. She'd tell him she missed him, that she was sorry for the fight, for the words that never seemed to come out right. She'd tell him she loved him. They were imperfect, but that didn't mean they couldn't keep trying.

For now, though, she had Ruby and Sapphire. Their quiet love wrapped around her like a soft blanket, comforting in its simplicity, reminding her that even on the hardest days, there were still moments of warmth, of grace. Maybe everything wasn't okay right now. Maybe it wouldn't be for a while. But here, with them, it felt like it could be. And for the first time that day, the knot in her chest loosened, just a little.