Orphan in Limbo

Irony of Fate

In the wee hours of morning which loomed in Vermont, the scintillating, saturating sun rays dispersed through the big French window in the couple's bedroom which was located on the second floor.

Jude and Timothy were slumbering beyond serenely in one another's arms as their light snores boated up in the room. They made love to one another the night before once they beheld their love child for first time ages after she was being seperated from them when they were yet pious members of the church. All they wanted was to numb the severe, somber heartache they experienced whenever they think of their sole daughter they had or otherwise see her on a photo or somewhere else.

In this moment, the former nun came to her senses at last as she rubbed with her creamy, milky fists her drowsy honey brown eyes, setting free an ordinary yawn by stretching her arms though she realized eventually she had no single garment or lingerie, hugging her slender, still appealing body for her midlife age.

Afterwards she wriggled by releasing herself from her husband's arms without waking him up by getting from the king-sized bed and pacing up to the en-suite bathroom by cleaning herself and brush her teeth, hence, tying her robe with a belt and hopping up in comfy slippers, walking away from the bedroom, in order to brew some coffee and prepare French toast for breakfast as well.

When the blonde descended the stairs and headed towards the kitchen by brewing some coffee and flipping the pancakes that motionlessly were roasting per a several minutes until it darkened on each side. The scrumptious aroma of pancakes and brewing coffee quickly overspread on the first floor until its poignant, nevertheless delicious scent was exceedingly invading the second floor either.

As soon as the former man of the cloth stirred up, he woke up in an empty bed as he got from it immediately and dressing himself up in casual garments such as plain navy blue jeans, white practical T-shirt, outlining his toned chest and muscular, potent arms. Then Timothy walked away from the bedroom as he set a foot in the hallway, an acute aroma of mouth-watering breakfast was coming from downstairs, toying with his sensitive, frail nostrils and coming to the conclusion why Jude got up earlier, in order to make a breakfast for themselves.

Shortly after he escorted the fragrance, coming from downstairs by imposing the wooden stairway as Jude heard sounds of footsteps as she readily recognized its source. It was her husband, of course. When the coffee was finally brewed while the pancakes were roasting, she poured hot coffee in 2 clean mugs, meantime Timothy propped on the doorframe, watching Jude who was sadly looking in their love child's baby picture, as a sole memory they have collected with their daughter. 

She sobbed inwardly to herself, lowered her head by grieving over inability of not seeing her in person and tell her how much she does loves her, regardless what kind of a person she became nowadays. Bitter tears poured down her brittle cheeks, grasping the vintage photo in two of her fingers, vaguely trembling when she contemplated Odette's baby face. She resembled her both parents though she was more father's daughter in appearance. 

The younger man ideally recognized her grief and sorrow, oozing from her. Not only in her facial expression which was imprinted on her palish, tear-stained face, moreover in her hardly controlled sobs and gushing down tears, welling in her puffy, reddish honey brown eyes. 

Instead of contemplating the grim scenery of his wife crying, he walked up to her, factly, to soothe her.

"Good morning, rare bird! Is everything alright?" Timothy stammered, struggling to utter each syllable when he beheld his wife in a condition which he detested to see her. So vulnerable. So shieldless. Fulfilled with endless agony and wretchedness. She instantly acknowledged his presence in the kitchen as she averted her swollen eyes from the old photo, shifting them directly to his warm, reassuring chocolate brown eyes, filled with love, dolefulness and warmness, colliding altogether as opposites.