Investing in My Crippled Wife: Every Return Makes Me Stronger

Afternoon, 2:00 PM.

Eastern Kalmara City, Verdant Glen Gardens.

The gardens stretched wide beneath the afternoon sun, a sprawling sanctuary of green tucked away from the city’s noise. Stone pathways wound through carefully tended beds of flowers in full bloom, their colors bright against the dark soil. Tall trees lined the outer edges, their canopies casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across the ground. The air was clean and cool, carrying the faint scent of jasmine and freshly turned earth.

A small stream ran through the heart of the gardens, its water clear and slow-moving, crossed by a low wooden bridge worn smooth by years of footsteps. Birds called to each other from the branches above, and the only other sounds were the soft crunch of gravel underfoot and the distant murmur of other visitors enjoying the peace.

On one of the stone pathways, a brown-haired young man walked steadily, his hands gripping the handles of a wheelchair. Seated in it was a black-haired young woman wearing a simple white mask that covered the lower half of her face, her ice-blue eyes quiet and watchful as she took in the world around her.

They were none other than Soren and Ethea, who had arrived at this haven only a short while ago. Getting here had been no small feat; it had taken Soren considerable time to organize the trip. He had spent hours researching the best spots in the city and had even sought out Clara’s advice.

But now, watching her gaze drift across the surroundings with something soft and unfamiliar in her expression, he felt the effort had been worth it.

”Beautiful, isn’t it?” He asked.

”Mmm.” Ethea hummed in agreement.

She let her head rest back slightly, watching the way the emerald canopy stitched patterns against the blue sky. Somehow, she felt free and content.

They continued along the winding path, blending into the gentle afternoon crowd.

A young couple walking hand-in-hand passed them, offering a polite, fleeting smile and a small nod.

An elderly man resting on a bench looked up and touched his hat in a silent greeting before returning to his book.

Others simply walked past, absorbed in their own conversations, their eyes never lingering long enough to see past the casual appearance of a young man and his companion.

Soren felt a quiet relief settle over him as they moved along the path without drawing any attention.

It had been Ethea’s idea to wear the headscarf and mask before leaving the house, a precaution he had readily agreed to. She was a renowned Awakened, someone whose face was known, and the last thing either of them needed was to be recognized in the middle of what was supposed to be a peaceful outing.

”So far, so good. Right?”

Ethea hummed in response, her eyes fixed on the stream below.

As they crossed the small wooden bridge, the sound of the running water provided a soothing backdrop to Soren’s voice. He began another conversation, though it was more like him doing all the talking.

He recounted the incident from the previous day, though he carefully edited out the more dangerous details. He then explained that he wanted to be better prepared so that such a situation wouldn’t happen again. He also shared some of his future plans.

Ethea listened intently while occasionally asking questions or voicing her opinions.

Just like that, they spent two hours in the garden, and only then did they decide to head back.

On the way home, he stopped at a small bakery and a supermarket to fulfill his promise to Ethea. He bought cakes and a lot of sweets.

Once they got home, Soren carried the bags inside and put everything away in the cupboard and the refrigerator. Then, he brought out the small, elegant cake he had picked specifically for her.

He sat on a stool beside her, a small silver spoon in his hand. He carefully carved out a perfect bite, making sure there was a bit of frosting and fruit on it, and held it out to her.

Ethea hesitated for a split second before opening her mouth and swallowing it.

”Is it good?” Soren asked, his eyes searching hers for a reaction.

Ethea chewed slowly, savoring the richness of the cream and the tartness of the fruit before finally taking it in.

”...Tasty,” she murmured.

”Good. Have another bite.”

Soren extended the spoon again, already carving out the next bite.

However, Ethea faintly shook her head and stared at him.

”...You eat.”

”Huh?” Soren froze, the spoon hovering in mid-air. He was stunned once again by her sudden reversal, but looking at the firm set of her jaw, he realized she wasn’t going to budge. He let out a soft sigh of defeat, a small, amused huff escaping his nose.

”Alright, if you insist.”

He brought the spoon to his own mouth.

The flavor was incredible: light, airy, and perfectly sweetened, exactly as the baker had promised. He turned back to her and gave a thumbs-up. ”It’s really good!”

As he went to slice another piece, he noticed Ethea staring at it quite intently. Her eyes were fixed on the silver utensil, her expression unreadable.

’Ah, I see,’ Soren thought. ’She wants to eat more after all.’

He quickly sliced another small piece and extended it to her.

”Here, one more.”

’Gulp...’

However, unlike what Soren thought, Ethea wasn’t thinking about the cake at all. Her mind had snagged on a detail she had completely overlooked all this time:

’...We... we are eating from the same spoon!’

The realization hit her like a physical jolt.

Her heart, which had been relatively calm after their peaceful walk, began to drum against her ribs with renewed intensity. She felt a familiar heat rising to her cheeks, and it took every ounce of her remaining willpower to keep from turning into a total tomato.

’N-no...We... we are married now,’ she reminded herself, her thoughts racing. ’It... It is natural. This is what couples do. Yeah...’

She took a quick peek at Soren.

He looked perfectly at ease, his expression open and kind, seemingly untroubled by the intimacy of the act. Seeing his lack of hesitation helped her steady her own nerves.

Gathering her courage, Ethea leaned forward, opened her mouth, and accepted the bite.

She chewed slowly, her eyes drifting downward as the flavors bloomed across her tongue. Somehow, the cake tasted even tastier this time. The sweetness seemed deeper, the texture creamier, as if the shared gesture had added an invisible layer of richness to the simple dessert.

Soren, oblivious to the storm of realization she had just weathered, pulled the spoon back with a satisfied grin.

”I’m glad you are enjoying it.”

”Let’s continue.”

”Mm...”