Chapter 9 – Learning to Breathe Again

Morning sunlight slipped through the thin curtains, pale and cold. Aiko lay curled on the couch, one hand over her stomach. The nausea had woken her before dawn. She tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness forced her back down.

Yuji hurried out of the bathroom, hair messy, uniform halfway tucked in. He knelt beside her.

“Morning sickness again?”

Aiko nodded, pale. “I didn’t think it would be this bad…”

He steadied her with gentle hands. “Can you drink water?”

“I’ll try.”

Yuji poured a cup and held it out. She sipped, but the smell alone made her tense. Yuji winced in sympathy.

“I’ll grab something light on my way back from work,” he said. “Ginger candy or crackers. Something easy on your stomach.”

Aiko managed a faint smile. “Thanks. Sorry for slowing you down.”

“You’re not slowing me down,” he said. “Just… hang in there, okay?”

He squeezed her hand before rushing out the door for his shift.

The moment it closed, the room felt too quiet.

Aiko pressed her forehead against the couch cushion, steadying her breath. Her parents’ house had always been full of noise—clattering dishes, the soft rumble of conversation, the sound of her mother humming in the kitchen.

Here, the silence had weight.

She looked around at the peeling paint, the old fridge humming unevenly, the tiny stove with only one reliable burner. She felt a knot form in her throat. Yuji was doing everything he could, but she could see how thin he had become in the past week. The nights he came home with shaking hands. The bags under his eyes.

This wasn’t the future either of them imagined.

But it was theirs now.

Aiko pushed herself up slowly. She had to do something. Anything. At least clean up the dishes, make the room look less cramped, try to cook something simple.

She stood—and nearly collapsed.

Her knees buckled, forcing her to cling to the wall to stabilize herself.

The world tilted.

Her breath hitched.

She blinked until her vision steadied.

“Get it together…” she whispered to herself.

---

Yuji returned in the late afternoon, winded and carrying two bags of groceries.

“I got the cheapest stuff I could find,” he said. “Eggs, rice, a little tofu… and ginger candy.” He held the candy toward her with a proud smile.

Aiko took it with both hands. “Yuji… thank you.”

She meant it. Not the polite kind of thank you. The kind that hurt a little because she knew the money didn’t come easy.

Yuji set the bags down and stretched his stiff shoulders. “I’ll cook.”

“No,” Aiko said quietly. “Let me.”

He blinked. “You sure?”

She nodded. “I want to help. I can do this much.”

Yuji hesitated but didn’t argue. He stayed close, watching as she tried to chop vegetables with shaky hands. When she winced from a wave of nausea, he stepped in.

“Hey, sit down. I’ve got it.”

Aiko stubbornly shook her head. “I can finish.”

Yuji’s voice softened. “You don’t have to prove anything.”

She froze.

He said it so gently that her strength almost cracked in two.

Aiko set the knife down and took a slow breath. “I just… don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not,” he said. “You’re my wife.”

Her chest tightened. She looked down at her hands. “I’m trying really hard not to fall apart.”

“I know,” Yuji whispered. “That’s why I’m here.”

---

Dinner was simple—rice, tofu soup, and stir-fried vegetables. Nothing fancy, but it felt warm. Aiko ate slowly, feeling her stomach relax a little.

As they finished, Yuji reached across the table and touched her hand.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to ask for longer shifts.”

Aiko’s head snapped up. “Yuji, you’re already exhausted.”

“Yeah, but we need the money. The baby won’t wait.”

She stared at him, eyes stinging. He gave a small smile, but she could see the worry behind it.

“Yuji… I don’t want you working yourself sick.”

“And I don’t want you worrying alone,” he said.

Their fingers laced together. The silence between them wasn’t empty this time. It was warm. Comforting. Something they could lean on.

---

Later that night, they laid side by side on the thin futon. The streetlamp outside cast a faint glow across the ceiling.

Aiko whispered, “Do you ever regret it?”

Yuji looked at her, surprised. “Regret… what?”

“This. Me. Everything that happened.”

He reached out, brushing her cheek with gentle fingers. “No. Not once.”

Aiko felt her breath catch. “Even though it’s hard?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Because you’re here. And we’re building something together. Even if we’re scared, we’re moving forward.”

She pressed her forehead against his chest. “I’m trying to be strong.”

“You don’t have to do it alone.”

His hand rested over hers, warm and steady.

For the first time in days, Aiko felt her heartbeat slow. The fear didn’t vanish, but it stopped crushing her.

She closed her eyes, letting herself breathe.

Maybe the world was difficult. Maybe the road ahead was rough. But Yuji’s arms felt like a place she could rest. A small, precious pocket of safety inside all the chaos.

And as she drifted off, Aiko realized something simple but important:

They weren’t just surviving.

They were learning how to live again.

Together.