"Epo? Don't you think you should take a break? I'm sure those documents can wait," the woman cooed.

I remember it as clear as day. The knock at the door was a knife cutting through the atmosphere. Its creaking opening left much to be desired. A message important enough to interrupt a council meeting had better have been good.

"Epo! Stop!" she giggled.

For Qabei, we all watched in stunned silence, belying our curiosity. We all eagerly sought to see his face light up. It wouldn't be the first time his wife sent him a letter haphazardly during a meeting. And we all couldn't help but lose our demeanor when he smiled because of it. Love like that infects everyone around you.

"I'd prefer if they had my hair, honestly. It grows better," the woman let a hand run through what lack of strands he had on his head.

Like a group of children, we watched in latent excitement. But that smile we expected never came. Lord knows we wished it did. Instead, his face flinched but did not fall or rise. The question was posed if it was relevant, and he said no, continuing like nothing had happened.

"I love you, Epo," she said for the umpteenth time. The young man smiled softly; his gaze tracked her lips as the words were spoken. His emotions spun quiet elation. "I love you," She'd repeat. He'd say 'again,' listening silently, then forth. "I love you-"

They could've gotten everything they wanted; that meeting was to organize an outreach to the rebellion. It was to calm tensions and resolve things without violence... If they had just waited. If they had just considered what they were doing. I still can't comprehend what the hell they were thinking. I'd rather they had come for me instead of her. That poor boy could live with the death of an old man well into his years. I could leave with a life fulfilled. But to take her away... The meeting should've ended right there. He pretended as if everything was fine. We organized the outreach, and the rebel leader and their people arrived. Everything was fine.

Everything should've been fine until it wasn't. In a time not even worth counting, they were all dead. On the body of their leader, he left the letter he'd received a week prior. When he left, we read it in stunned silence. Rebels had killed his wife. Oh. We wept for him. For her. Grief like that infects everyone around you.

"Epo, do you have a proper end you've written?" He looked up from his work, gazing across his desk to the couch right before it. His wife's chin rested on the back of the furniture piece with curious eyes. He nodded, returning his attention to the documents under his hands. "Can I read it?" As the expected words came forth, he reached into the deep drawer at the bottom of the desk. His hands tearing a letter from the stack of them. Right from the bottom, in a yellowing envelope, it was still sealed. "I can open it?" He nodded again, his attention removed from what he had been doing.

She read it, waltzing around the desk into his lap. "Epo..." she began, her eyes brushing over his frame with disgust. "You want to be... swallowed by a mimic when you die?" He chuckled. This chuckle prompted her to giggle. Her giggle snowballed his chuckling into laughter that spread to them both. For that moment, they found themselves entertained by his dying wish.

With one last sound of joy, the laughing opened to a comforting silence as she finished her reading. "I don't have a proper end in mind. Maybe I should write one." She contemplated after a few moments. He shook his head, eyes falling back to the damage report for the capital's lower district. The rebels were getting more aggressive.

"You won't die," he reverted, his mind losing grip on imagining such an occurrence. He wouldn't dare.

"Everyone dies, silly. I'll have to go eventually." He shook his head again, rejecting the idea.

"When it's that time, I'll die twice. Once for my life and another for yours. I'll even give the gods my body and soul."

She sniffled, yet no tears surfaced in her eyes as the woman stifled her laughter. "Awe, how sweet. Well, when I go, I'll beg Haiyta to let you come visit." He shushed her, his hand flying to her lips.

"Quiet now before someone hears you and sends the Synod here. Again. The last time that happened—"

"The last time it happened, you were nearly excommunicated. You're perfectly capable of heresy without me spouting off," she chuckled again. She leaned into him with his supporting hand at her back, laying against the man's shoulder.

"Would you try and conquer death for me?" she spoke against him. He nodded, free hand falling over her leg. "What about wishing on the stars for me?" He thought momentarily, shifting in his seat with her atop him.

"My love, if there were an opportunity for us to be together for lifetimes more, I'd even let the stars have me." She smiled gratefully, her eyes not betraying the amor in her heart. They gazed at each other briefly before her giggling vocals broke the silence and the staring contest.

"When I die, don't burden yourself. I'll wait for you in the afterlife. Then, I can laugh at you for how you died." Nodding slowly, his expression one of obedient acceptance.

"Right, because the gods care to let us keep our souls when we die." She chuckled at the thought. Before once again, silence filled the room.

When enough time passed, he began to smile again. We believed maybe he'd lost it, but no. Qabei, in these strange mannerisms, showed no signs of unspoken distress. He spoke of his late wife quite a bit, spouting off about memories. We listened as if we could never get sick of it. But who could grow sick of a solemn man trying to make peace with losing a part of himself? Still, sometimes, he spoke like she was waiting for him at home.

"Epo... what did you do?" Her voice was hoarse and dry. He retrieved a water pouch from his bag, his eyes exhausted.

"I told you, Vera. When the time came... I'd die twice."