Forty-three

El is awake before me again. It has become the new routine. She sleeps late, wakes early. I prop myself on my elbows, watching my wife labour over an illustration on her iPad. Without makeup, the dark circles around her eyes are more prominent and her collarbone pokes at her flesh. She is skipping meals. 

Her brows furrow in concentration, she folds her legs underneath her and reclines on the couch. I stalk towards the couch, snatching her iPad which I push to the side stool so I can hoist her on my legs. 

I pinch her cheeks. “Time out.”

“Time out?” The back of her hand goes over her mouth to stifle another yawn, confirming her need for a break. “But I just started.” I press a finger to her lower back, working the tension up to her spine and her body sags in relief. She reaches for the iPad again, I hold it above our heads. “Baby, I need to finish up.” 

“You need to take a break.”&