The Space Between

'There's a blemish,' he said, 'here on your back.' He touched her gently. 'I wonder what you've done.'
What does it matter? she thought. She blew a breath out through her nose, once, harsh.
'I wasn't thinking,' he said.
She had shown him. When everything had healed. He had asked her to, and she had undressed in front of him.
'It's still you,' he said, surprised. 'I don't feel any different.'
She had been surprised too by this. She had processed her own feelings, not expecting him to have reached the same place she had. Still, she hadn't wanted to show him again. She slept with her back to him, though it was not the way they had positioned themselves before. Even now, dozing in the afternoon, she undressed and turned away from him.
She knew she was not making it easy, but it was all she could do.
He got into bed. She could feel the space between them as if it were a physical thing.
He cuddled up to her then. She felt him fit himself against her. His hand came around and held the place her breast used to be. She flinched, not through shame, or unease, but simply at the magnitude of the moment.