A/N: This chapter takes place the next day. Sorry it is not very long.
Raoul exited the ship unused to the feel of solid ground under his feet. The sky above him had not a cloud to blemish it, the perfect weather for returning to France. There was an eager horde of people on looking the arrival of the sailors. He looked around the area half-expecting to see Christine and Philippe among the people. They weren't. Raoul pushed his way through the crowd to get to his home and see his family. But, the crowd was persistent about properly greeting him; every single one of them.
"Please, let me pass. I've a wife and son waiting on me at home," Raoul pleaded.
Everybody seemed not to hear him. In fact, in Raoul's opinion, they even seemed to push closer together. One of his friends on the ship, Thomas, saw the struggle that he had to endure to free him.
"Come along, let him through. Move along," Thomas offered, waving his arms in a "get out of the way" gesture. The townspeople finally made a path for Raoul.
He began his journey calling over his shoulder, "Thank you, Thomas. We'll have to have you over sometime!"
Thomas chuckled to himself, calling, "You best slow down. You're going to be too tired for Christine."
Raoul opened his front door. "Christine! Philippe!"
There was no reply.
"Christine! Philippe! I'm home!" When no one replied he began to get suspicious. Something was not right. On the other trips he has been on as a sailor, his son was waiting at the door for his arrival.
He entered his house. No one was there.
Suddenly as if icy water was poured on him, Raoul came to a sudden realization. "Christine!" he yelled at the top of his lungs.
Wandering into their bedroom, Raoul noticed the drawers in Christine's carelessly opened dresser had several articles of her favorite clothing that appeared to be missing. The suitcase that the couple had bought when they moved back to Perros was also missing. Seeing that, he scurried to his son's room.
Precariously placed was the note, near Philippe's unlit oil lamp on his bedside table. The note simply read:
Dearest Raoul,
I can no longer take the unremitting bickering that consumes every spare minute of our lives. It is unhealthy for our son to have to grow in a household such as this. I have taken Philippe to Paris with me. I will always remember you.
Sincerely,
Christine.
The note was written as if it were an afterthought. Christine wrote it sloppily and without much thought behind it.
Raoul sunk to his knees, crumbling the note. "Why Christine? Why?" He sobbed into his fists. Raoul felt juvenile tears flow down his cheeks. He looked up. He knew what he had to do. He had to travel to Paris to reunite with his lost love and child.