The first day the door was silent, it was a good thing. She could use some peace and quiet. Their daughter need not hear more arguing.

The second day, she relaxed.

Third day, she pondered.

Fourth day, she kept glancing at the door, expecting. Relief or dread, she could not tell.

Fifth day, she denied missing the knocks.

Seventh day, she knew it. He was busy. Of course he was. Even after all the arguments, he still turned to his work, what started it all. Didn't he know they needed him too?

Twelfth day, she kept telling herself this was a good thing. He wasn't a bother anymore.

Fifteenth day, even with him gone, he was all she could think about. She didn't like that.

Seventeenth day, her anger asked for his attention. She told herself it was for their child.

A month passed, she stopped lying to herself. The silence worried her. She once knocked on her own door just to remember how it sounded like. It just reminder her what was gone.

Two months in, all she did was ask people where he could be. They had no clue. He had many things in secret after all. She sometimes wondered if he did want this. She didn't know what to believe in.

Six months in, she was a mess, crying night after night as her friends worried over her. They blamed him and sometimes she did too.

Eight months in, she was getting better, she believed. She needed to believe. After all, her daughter needed her.

Nearly a year later, her daughter flew. She gaped in wonder and felt her feet lift off the ground for the first time in months, only to wobble back down. He has missed this moment.

Two years in and she noticed how much his father has changed around her daughter. The butler was very pleased and they visited the manor often. His father saw his smile on the child. He was dearly missed.

One night when her daughter was three, his estranged brother crept through the window and into the room to see the young girl. She watched through the cracked door down the hall as his brother smiled quietly and left. She let it be a secret.

Four years in, her daughter's princess story books gathered dust by the shelves. The curious girl has grown to love stories about him more than anything every night before bed.

The year her daughter could write, they visited the great hall of the fallen to deliver the birthday card which she helped put so much glitter on, hearing her daughter hope he would love it. She knew he would.

Six years passed, his father slammed open the door, panting as if he got there as fast as he could, his expression unreadable.

"We found him."

Her world fell silent.


To be continued...

I'm just getting the hang on writing. Read a ton, just never wrote one myself so this one will be a collection of moments.