he understood their daughter’s concern, but wished he didn't have to. there had been many phone calls in their life as a family that had ended sourly, with dark news of søren falling into a mental relapse or having one of a number of health complications. since his accident, an event that preceded the birth of their daughter, it seemed as though the holmströms lived in a cycle of good days and bad. one could not exist for long without the other. for a while now, they had coasted through life almost suspiciously smoothly. for the moment he pushed the thought to the back of his mind, and instead hummed at the familiar sound of his wife’s voice. “i don’t know if i can blame her, given the life we lead,” it was diplomatic, and the crinkles of a smile were still etched beside his eyes, but there was a brief dullness to his warm blues. there was nobody to blame but himself ; how many anxious nights had he forced his family through, all for a moment of foolishness two decades before ?
søren closed the space between them, effortlessly folding his body around sigrid’s and pressing her against the counter. a warm kiss fell to her neck, trailing beneath her ear, before he spun her in his hold and dealt the final blow to her lips. “was that enough ? ” asked the doctor, his hand cradling his wife's jaw and almost taking her entire head with it, “i’m not sure the conversion rate of krona to kisses. i’m sure it’s changed since we left malmö.”