The Prologue
The faint aroma of once-warm milk. Bitterly distinctive, there to remind him there was an ever-accumulating pile of washing up to do. But, there always was, no matter how many sinkfuls of bubbles he became elbow deep in.
Before Delilah, Ethan didn't know it was possible for powdered formula to even curdle. As he peered bleakly into the plastic bottle, he realised it was. It was impossible to tell when exactly it had been made up. A day ago. A few hours ago. It was impossible to tell.
She made squeaking noises in his arms, little hiccups. It no longer worried him. Though a medic, it had been disconcerting to hear the weird breath noises in the first days. He'd even taken her back in after they returned home from hospital. That in itself caused a few raised eyebrows.
"Absolutely fine", they said. "Involuntary", and "she'll grow out of it".
It had been ten months and two days exactly since that day, and it was still there. It was nothing more than a feature in their lives, a shred of normality if ever there was to be one.
It started when she left. That was medically inexplicable, but logically plausible. Perhaps a coincidence. Also, perhaps not.
Ethan wished with every fibre of his being that the only lasting effect of her departure to him was too, a squeaky noise. If only things could be that easy. He rested his chin atop of her downy blonde curls, lost in thought. They remained still for a moment before the baby wriggled. Almost capable of knowing his mind was elsewhere, determined to wrench him out of his thoughts and resume prime priority as always.
'Come on, little one.' He gently hoisted her onto one hip, lightly wiping a tea towel over the surfaces before pausing again and looking at her. 'We've somewhere to be tonight.'
