Oni was asleep. One half of the large bed was empty. It was like that sometimes. Sometimes she slept alone.
That was just the way it was.
Oni knew that this is how it would be. She knew he would be called off to serve, to do some greater task than to lay in bed with his wife. She agreed anyway.
Truth was, he was worth it.
She had no second thoughts, not even on those particular nights were the bed was particularly cold. When he was here, she had his full attention. He went out of his way to make her happy. On her first Christmas in Egypt, he had dug up a small palm tree sapling and surprised her with it. It was decorated with colorful beads and trinkets and made to look like a Christmas tree. He had done it all for her; he didn't even celebrate Christmas.
Besides, she was not alone anymore. Beside her, tucked safely under her arms, their two little girls and infant son slept. It was not a usual thing, having her children all asleep in their bed. But when he was gone, it had become tradition. They helped warm up the emptiness.
That was how it had been for the last 6 years.
He was gone less frequently now. People were content to think of Humanaptra as a rumor. The war had died down, and Europeans were leaving Egypt alone. But sometimes, he still had to go.
He had been gone a week now. The longer he was gone, the sweeter his homecoming was.
He was home now. His horse was safely tied. His sword was put away. He was off duty.
He crept in silently, trying not to wake his slumbering family. It was no use. They were waiting for him. His girls were up before he was even through the door. They ran at him, tackling his knees. He yelped in mock surprise before stumbling to the bed and collapsing on his half. His girls squealed and showered his face in kisses. His wife was up now, cradling their son. He gently took him from her, planting a kiss on his wife's lips. The girls are still rolling, tumbling with glee. They all flop on the bed together, one big, giddy family.
Homecoming is the sweetest part.
But sometimes, homecoming is bittersweet.
Alex O'Connell knows this. It is the way it has always been. His parents used to spend time in Egypt. Then it was they were always gone, working with the British in the war.
At least he used to get to tag along in Egypt. Not that he did much.
He was always shooed, scolded, ignored. So he acted up. Anything, anything at all, to get some attention, a little bit of affection.
Not that they didn't love him. No, that was not it at all. They were just busy. Always busy. Too busy to have a sibling for him. Too busy to show up to his baseball game. Too busy to take him fishing, or swimming or biking. Just doing enough to get him by, to let him have the best education, the best clothing, the best vacations. But too busy for the things that really mattered. And so he learned to be independent. To push them away before they could do the same to him.
That was the way it was.
They were back from their latest trip now. He could hear them on the stairs. They paused at his door. His mother wanted to come in, he knew this. His father said to let him sleep. They would see him in the morning.
Even though he was not a little boy anymore, Alex felt the familiar sting of tears. He hugged his pillow, fighting back the loneliness.
Their homecoming, for him, was bittersweet.