The bed was empty.

Jennifer rolled onto her back, finding divots on the uneven ceiling and absentmindedly assigning them shapes.

The clock read 2:30am.

Should I be worried?

Being a few weeks old didn't matter when she felt her age. She felt thirty, having all the memories and thoughts of the real Jennifer. It was hard to separate herself from what she thought of as before and now.

Before she'd been a broken, mean, barely functioning addict. Now, she had none of the desires of the real Jennifer, but was still imbued with her thoughts and feelings. Including love for Ty, and love for Helia.

I am different.

But how was she to make Ty see this, and accept it?

With a sigh, Jennifer rolled onto her side, trying in vain to go back to sleep, but finding it difficult with the cold half of the bed at her back.

Finally, the clock sounded with the 7am alarm. Jennifer had managed to fall asleep for small snatches of time. She stretched an arm behind her, coming up empty. Ty had been gone all night.

Is this what I deserve?

Or what she deserves?

Jennifer considered the questions as she pulled on clothes. All self-considerations were mercifully tossed away the second Helia bounded into the bedroom, hugging Jennifer's knees to then announce she was hungwee. She hugged her daughter right back, and they went to the kitchen hand-in-hand.

On the way, they passed Ty flopped on the living room couch, mouth open and eliciting an awful snore.

"Is Daddy okay?"

"Yeah, just really tired...from work." She scooped up the toddler and promised pancakes for breakfast.

The light tinkering and laughter in the kitchen didn't wake Ty. It was 10am before he stumbled off the couch, deep sleep lines marking his left cheek.

After breakfast, Jennifer started packing boxes. It was a plan the three adults had agreed to: pack up, pay cash for a rental in the next town over, at least for a few weeks. Damon had ceased his school studies, and Ty had quit his job.

She had a dozen boxes stacked in rows when Ty side-stepped her on the way to the kitchen.

"Morning."

With the open floorplan, she could still see him from her spot in the dining room, on her knees taping up another box. Ty reached for a cold pancake from the leftover stack on the kitchen counter, but he didn't answer.

Helia was watching Sesame Street in the bedroom. Jennifer took a breath, and tried again, echoing her daughter to ask:

"Are you okay?"

Ty chewed the pancake, eyes trained on the linoleum floor.

"Fine."

He ambled away. Jennifer noted how through the entire (and mostly one-sided) exchange, he managed to not look at her once.