"Husband."

"Yes, my love."

"We have not had sex since we came to this world..."

So that happened. In the tent, in my arms.

"...Why?"

Because I don't know what will happen. Because your body was changed when we came here, and I don't know how much. Because you might not be a miqo'te any more, you might be a human woman with long ears and a tail.

Because you might get pregnant.

We had so much sex in Eorzea and you never got pregnant. I don't know if that was because we were two different races or species, or if Eorzea just never did babies. But we're not in Eorzea now, and we're not in the bodies we had there, and you might get pregnant here.

And I don't know if we should have kids while we don't have homes or money or IDs. And I don't know if I want to start a second family. And I don't know if you want a family at all. And I don't know what that will do to your skills, if you'll still be able to fight as well as you can now. And I don't know if our kids would be fully human, or part miqo'te, or fully human with miqo'te features like you might be now.

And I don't know if saying any of that is the right decision, since it might anchor possibilities and cement reality. We're bending the reality I grew up with each time we harvest or craft or switch classes or even take stuff out of our inventory. So I don't know if I'll bend reality by telling you this and making you think you can get pregnant. Or even by making you think you can't.

So I'm covering up being a coward by being a scientist and playing a Wait and See, to see if you have a menstrual period, because that would suggest you're human enough to get pregnant, and then we'll need to decide in a more concrete way what we're going to do. Which means waiting a month to make love to my wife as we'd done nearly every day in Eorzea.

And you don't know. You don't know if I'm holding back because of you or because there's something wrong with me or because there's something I know that I'm not telling you. You don't understand why this perfectly natural part of our lives isn't manifesting, and what has changed to cause that. And all I'm doing is holding you, and not telling you. Like the other things I didn't tell you.

Because I'm not yet ready to open Schrodinger's box to see if the rabbit died.

"I'd rather not say."

"Is it because of me?"

"No, my love."

"Will you ever tell me?"

"Yes, my love."

She sighed softly into my chest. "So what shall we do until then?"

"Well. Why don't we start with massage?"