Something isn’t right.

My eyelids shoot open but I don’t make an effort to move. The sun is beaming through the cracks of the oak tree accompanied by a warm breeze. It felt like it should have been a perfect morning but the feeling was evanescent as an ineffable wave of emotion overtook my mind.

I make my way to a seat, in which I am reminded of the body that laid to rest beside me all those nights before. Her hand wraps loosely around my torso while she fills the room with what was once harmonic snores. But today they meet my ears in a stertorous manner.

I shuffle away from the erstwhile comfort of the the bed hoping that she doesn’t awaken. But my prayers are not answered as she stirs her way up , and I am met with eyes full of love that shouldn’t have been aimed at mine.

“Good morning my love.” her vapid voice echos through the room and wave of guilt crashes over me. What should have been a phrase I loved hearing became one I suddenly found discomfort in.

I put on a mendacious facade and smiled softly in response.

The covers slide down her scanty frame revealing a pristine white night dress that glistened in the sunlight. Her untamed strawberry blonde hair rested on her jade green wings as she stretched her thin arms above .A sight like this should have been heavenly to any man, but I turned away knowing that this sight was not mine to witness.

I make my way for the bedroom door wondering what had bought on this abnegation. But I’m taken out of thought by the sudden burst of excitement from a young little girl.

“Good morning daddy” she flies into my arms and I am startled for a second before embracing her into a warm hug.

“Good morning my sprout” I am finally graced with my first propitious feeling of the day and all seems to finally feel familiar.

She turns to meet my gaze with a face full of adoration of her father. And I couldn’t have felt happier with this genuine expression. But as I stare too long, her eyes began to bore into mine in that dull loving way that showered me with guilt .

I place her on the ground as an exorbitant stream of questions began to flood my hazy mind.

What is happening? Where is that familiar feeling when I look at my wife and kid? Why am I being bombarded with guilt when I look into their eyes?

A cold hand rests on my shoulder and as a I stare at my child before me. I don’t want to lift my head. I don’t want to preclude this undeserving pain a little longer until I can figure everything out. But as if she reads my mind she whispers softly into my ear.

“ it’s worn off hasn’t it?”