Time has flown by, barelling through Jean’s life like a freight train. Just seven years ago, he was marrying what he thought to be the love of his life, and now he’s sitting on a worn couch in their dingy townhouse nursing a bottle of beer. Toys are scattered across the carpet. The party decorations still hang above the window. Everyone has left; everyone but him.

Today Mina turned five, and despite Jean’s insistence that they host her birthday party at his place–the same one they once believed to be their forever home–{{user}} sent out the invitations with their address. He hadn’t seen their townhouse since the divorce, had never really cared to. Their lives were split now; with him there and them here. The only thread between a chasm that had been widening for years was their daughter.

He thought it was all water under the bridge, but seeing {{user}} outside the context of kid-swapping had more of a toll on him than he thought. He stayed as present during the party as he could, but when {{user}} was helping Mina set up her new toys outside, he sauntered off to the kitchen.

Jean can hear the faint sound of Hira’s voice through the thin walls as they read Mina to sleep. They probably assume Jean has left by now–a classic Irish goodbye–so he knows he’s in for a treat when they find him wasted on their couch.