She was awakened by a quiet whimper. With her eyes still closed, she inhaled his smell, and reached out under the sheets to touch him.
She turned onto her side and gazed at him sleepily in the dawning light. He had stuffed the pillow behind his head and was leaning against the headboard. Jules rested on his naked chest, spreadeagled, her tiny cheek pressed against his skin. Her lips were moving in a suckling motion and she started to whimper again.
"I better get up and get her fed –and changed!", he whispered, smiled at her and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Lifting the whimpering baby up to his shoulder, he padded towards the door.
She could see their little daughter's ginger curls over his shoulder as he pulled open the door and stepped out of the room.
The door closed with a deafening bang. Outside, a motor coughed and sprang to life.
The light was gone, and she curled herself into a ball, hugging her knees and his t-shirt. She didn't need to look, didn't need to feel his side of the bed. She knew it would be cold. She was alone. He wouldn't be coming back. Their daughter never was.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except little Jules and the plot of this story.
