Without thinking, I reached out and grabbed her hand. “I... I can’t,” I admitted, searching for an excuse.

“Why not? You’re her husband. You can do that for her,” Amara said, confused.

“I’m sorry, but I just... can’t,” I stammered, unable to explain my hesitation.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, noticing something off in my tone.

"I... I'm not feeling well; it would be difficult for me to change her dress when I can barely move my body," I said, trying to avoid eye ...