Psyche could never properly express how much she appreciated her husband. If it wasn't for his supportive presence or just existing for her to love, she would have withered away long ago. In fact, she almost had several times.
There was a strange sort of clarity that came with an event like what had happened on Thanksgiving. While Eros and his family had been born into divinity, Psyche had been raised to her station as a bride to Eros. She had been human first. She was still human on some level and understood their plights as the embodiment of their souls. When the city had been wiped out, she'd felt lost and adrift, unsure of how to deal with it.
And now? She looked up at Eros properly for the first time in weeks. "I have a hole inside of me, with fetid jagged edges." She'd told Sam it felt like she'd been stabbed. It was the most she'd ever said about it. It was how the goat got sent to her in the first place. "Like a pocket was carved out of me with a tiny rusty saw." She paused long enough to sip her tea. "And it just hurts. All the time." It wasn't said to worry him so much as to let him know, but she knew he'd worry. "I also don't think I truly understood the scope of being a god and I still don't."