Rose wasn't keeping track of the days anymore. She couldn't remember the last time she got any proper sleep that wasn't filled with nightmares. Every day, the gnawing feeling in her chest grew worse.
Her father wasn't much better. Recently, he wasn't leaving the house anymore. It had been two full days since he last stepped out. He spent most of his time on the bench, gripping his wife's hands.
His shoulders were slumped as he sat on the bench. Her father, who always seemed so strong and put together, was visibly cracking.
"Fat'er," Rose called.
He jerked his head up to look at her, and for a moment, she could see nothing but pure confusion in his eyes. Just how deep in thought was he?
"Dinner," Rose whispered. "I made soup."
"Thank ye, Rose," her father said with a forced smile.
Rose thought the smile was familiar. Of course, it was. It was the exact kind of smile she had on her face when she tried to pretend everything was all right.
