Distance has not healed anything so far.

The silence in the cramped living room is palpable. Boxes are stacked on top of boxes, something which contributes woefully to Alicia's jumbled state of mind. Still, she's grateful for a friend in times of struggle.

A mug of steaming tea is placed between her two hands. With a grateful glance and nod upwards, she eyes Louise and watches as she resumes her position on the tacky velvet sofa.

'Have you thought about forgiving him yet?' Louise asks, edging forward and gently chucking her phone aside.

Every single second. In the corner, Seth's eyelids flutter. He is nestled in a cotton bundle, tucked snugly in the makeshift basket. Alicia realises her son is so delicate: only recently had they marvelled at his growth, but take him out of home and he is all the tinier. Striking resemblance to his father. That same father that might have written off his little life because of the stupid Huntington's—

'I take that as a no,' sighs Louise, expression withering. 'He is your baby boy's father. Both your kids are half of you and half of him. Whatever it is that he's done, you must forgive him. Even if you don't feel like it right now. It isn't like you to be so stubborn — especially not where that bloke's concerned.'

That bloke. That bloke who she's shared stolen glances with for years, the one whose eyes still sparkle enough to set her world alight. That bloke who has given her chance after chance, sitting by doors she has closed until his whole body aches with fatigue. That bloke who snorted milk out his nose on the second date, only after donating his shoes in her direction and walking sock-footed through the midnight streets. That bloke who knows the right temperature of her bath water down to the degree, where to explore under the covers, when a day needs to be fixed with flowers or just a smile. That bloke who has given her two blonde beauties and dotes on them. That bloke who loves her irrevocably no matter the obstacle. And he's a victim of a destroying degenerative disease.

She bites her lip, anguished. 'You've got to promise you won't tell.'

'Who are we, Delilah and her friend? I pinky promise, alright?'

Alicia freezes, face contorting with horror, thinking of her little girl skipping happily about the playground making several of her own pinky promises. Thinking of how that's their father daughter trademark. Of that promise, the specific one that was disclosed at the dinner table.

'What?'

'He-uh, he's got Huntington's disease.'

'—Ethan has?'

'Yeah. Trouble is, I've only just found out. And if I'd have known, I would've been so much more careful. Instead he kept it quiet and we are all trapped.'

'Oh, you poor thing. Symptoms don't always start until at least mid fifties though, not that that's any better, but you won't all be grieving forever. It just gives life a bit of an expiry date. We all have one anyway, it's just we don't know it.'

She sniffs. 'I'd say you're wise, but...'

'Wait, isn't it...' Louise pauses, almost as if the pieces are slotting together.

Don't say it, please, don't verbalise it.

Her voice is scarcely a whisper. 'Hereditary?'

It is enough. The wobble in her voice combined with Alicia's existing concerns makes her break there and then. She begins to ugly cry, wanting comfort from the person that hurt her. Poor Ethan. Poor babies. Poor her. Everyone who matters might be broken. Her job is to fix poorly people and she can't even fix this. And they are her children.

'He's sent their DNA samples off for analysis. Behind my back, of course. We went off to a hotel to resolve the argument and then he told me, I- I left. I got a taxi home and picked up the children, our bags and came to yours. I can't be away from the baby long anyway because of the feeding thing. He's tried to call but it's only been two days. I just can't face him. I don't care how awful it makes me, I don't know how he could do this to two children who would've had the world at their feet. How he could do it to me—'

'No offence, but you're being a bit previous.' Louise passes her a tissue. 'Be quiet or you'll wake Seth, as if he's not been awake all last night already.'

Alicia manages a shaky laugh. 'He's out for the count. I just don't know what to do. It's pathetic. I feel so helpless, such a poor excuse of a mother. I vowed to get it right this time.'

'This isn't your fault though. Truthfully, it's not anyone's. You're here dwelling on what might not even be true. Just because it's true for him doesn't mean it's the case for your kids. What is it, a 25 percent chance?'

'The allele is dominant, so it'll be half chance.' Alicia corrects, trying not to snivel too loudly.

'He will be going spare with worry right now. I'm sure he doesn't love doing this to you, which is probably why he didn't say anything in the first place. Men are odd creatures. Ethan is ruled by his morals. You know that better than anybody else. He will have been doing what he thought saved the most feelings.'

'Well, he got it wrong.' Alicia retorts. 'So wrong. He thinks he can play God like this, deciding what I do and don't know, about my children, like he gets some sort of kick out of it—'

'Highly doubt that. You're being dramatic. Cut yourself some slack, you only gave birth ten days ago.'

'How I wish it was just a simple matter of having a row about TV, or whether it's appropriate to let Delilah eat her food with her fingers. It is literally life or death.' She comments miserably.

Louise glances at her, pitiful for a moment before something snaps. 'Me, you, baby, Starbucks. We have an hour before we go and pick Delilah up from school'

'I'm not up to it. I have like, one outfit left.'

And plenty more at home. He isn't kicking anybody out. In fact, the opposite. She knows he would delight at her return. But it isn't her pride to swallow. She would rather wear a bin bag than hurry back and play happy families.

'We can drive through. I'll drive my car and baby's got his seat. The coffee and attractive male workers call. Caffeine certainly calls me after that night.'

Alicia giggles. 'I'll pay then. I owe it to you. You've let us stay and put up with my screamer for the past two nights. I bet you'll be glad to go back to work.'

'You certainly will pay,' Louise raises an eyebrow with a cheeky smile. 'Use Ethan's card.'

'He'd probably like me to,' she realises guiltily. 'He didn't go back to work after all and decided to take his two weeks together. I hope he's not feeling awful.'

'You've changed your tune.'

'I still love him, Louise,' she sighs scathingly. 'I just love my babies too. More. I need time to deal with this hurt.'

In less than a few minutes, they are bundled up and ready to leave through the door of the flat. Alicia heaves her bags over her shoulders, making a mental note to not to bash them too hard against the walls on the way down. Just in case she has a change of heart and wants to go back. Her volatile mental state tells them both this is a definite possibility. Louise gives her a comforting smile and squeezes Seth a little closer to her chest.

This is what friends are for.