War changes men.

That's what Polly said to you when you sent your husband to the war. You didn't believe her, Thomas promised he wouldn't. You trusted him. You sent him to war with his child in your belly, and you longed for the day he'd come back

But when he did, you wished you wouldn't be so hopeful. He did change. His eyes didn't look the same anymore, it was like something died inside of him.

Everything about him changed. His laugh, his eyes, his voice. He didn't laugh anymore, his eyes wasn't full of life like they used to be. Not even when he was looking at his son, or you. He started drinking more, talking less. Taking the family business in his own hands, handling everything, solving every problem except his own. And he didn't let you help him either.

Even now as you sat beside him in the bed, when he woke up from just another nightmare about the war and the blood, he didn't look at you. His eyes were fixed on the glass filled with whiskey instead.

You sighed, placed you hand on his hand as you laid your head against his shoulder. You wanted him to know, wanted him to see that you still cared.

"Go to sleep, dove. It's late." He said quietly, still not looking at you.