Running Toward Home

Chapter Two ~ The Empty Bed

The house felt impossibly quiet that night. Lyn tucked Juni into bed first, smoothing her curls and pressing a soft kiss to her temple. Then Emma, six, was next. Lyn carefully arranged Emma’s stuffed animals around her, leaning up for a hug.

"Goodnight, sweet girls," Lyn whispered, brushing back Emma's hair. "Sleep well."

As she closed the bedroom door behind her, she exhaled slowly. She had done this countless nights no. Tucking in the girls, kissing them goodnight, and then going to bed alone.

The other side of her king-sized bed sat empty, untouched . . . cold.

Twelve weeks pregnant and she longed for the warmth she used to take for granted.

Morning came too quickly the next day. The sunlight spilled over the kitchen counter as Lyn hummed quietly while making oatmeal. Ethan slipped in quietly, already dressed for work after a quick shower. She moved toward him instinctively, arms out for a hug and a kiss - the simple connection she craved.

He brushed her off casually. "Morning, girls," he said, crouching to plant gentle kisses on Emma and Juni's heads. Then he was gone, grabbing his briefcase, glancing at her with a distracted smile before slipping right out the door.

Something smelled different - faint, floral, sharp - a perfume she didn't recognize. Her stomach dropped. She tried to dismiss it, telling herself she was reading too much into it. He was busy. Exhausted. Overworked. That's all.

All day, he was in and out: phone calls, meetings, errands. He barely paused to speak more than a word or two, and when he did, it was clipped, distracted.

Every time she tried to catch his eye to steal a moment of warmth, he disappeared again. She never meant to keep the pregnancy news from him, especially this long, but he never gave her a chance to speak.

By that evening, she was frayed. The girls were asleep, their gentle breathing a comfort she clung to. She sat on the edge of her bed, rubbed her stomach, and let out a small, frustrated sigh.

Her phone buzzed.

Ethan.

"Not going to be home tonight," his voice was calm, distant. "Meetings ran long."

The dam inside her broke. "I... I just want to spend time with my husband!" she shouted into the phone, the words trembling. She didn’t mean to sound so emotional. Sound so upset. "I don't care if it's only for an hour, I just... I want you home!"

There was a pause on the line, and then his voice softened, the first warmth she'd heard all day. "I know. I know you do. I promise... tomorrow night, dinner. Just us."

Lyn pressed the phone to her chest, blinking back tears. "Dinner..." she whispered, almost to herself. "Just us."

She sat in the dimly lit room, the quiet house pressing in around her. The perfume lingered faintly in her memory, the empty bed beside her a sharp reminder. She let out a long, slow breath, clutching the blanket against her chest.

Tomorrow, she told herself. Tomorrow, he would be with her. And maybe then, just maybe, the cracks wouldn't feel so wide.