"Today," Belle told herself. "Robbie'll come home, and everything will be alright again. It will be okay. HE will be okay." The words were a mantra inside her head as she slowly got out of the bed she'd occupied alone for the past six months. She went over to the closet, rubbed her belly's visible bump and got dressed for the day. Next, she ate breakfast. Altogether, up until noon the day was uneventful.
At noon, someone knocked on the door. When Belle opened the door, after waddling towards the hall, her mouth went slack in shock. There stood her father, Moe French. "What do you want?" She asked in as calm a voice as she could manage.
"I want... I want you to come home, Belle. I miss you." Moe told her truthfully, even as his ears tinted pink at the tips with the embarrassment from the sentiment.
"I am home. This is my home, with Robbie and, in the future, our child." Belle said curtly, looking at him quizzically for a moment before stepping forward, out of the house and onto the porch. She sat down on a wicker rocking chair and slowly pushed her foot on the ground to rock herself back and forth. "Dad, I love you, and I miss you too." She added softly. "But Robbie's my life."
Moe tentatively took the chair beside her, and turned his plump figure sideways to face her. "I haven't heard about your life since you walked out of the flower shop nine months ago, Isabelle. I'm worried about you."
Belle sighed, feeling guilty as she realised that what he spoke was true. "I didn't think you wanted to hear from me. I've stayed with Robbie, Dad." She said slowly.
Moe stood up, sighing. "I'll respect that, Belle. Just don't shut me out."
Belle stood too, shaking as she embraced her father. "I promise."