It had been a normal day so far. He woke up, pulled on his robes and had breakfast. Nothing fancy for breakfast, oatmeal and a glass of blue milk as he watched the sun rising over the hills. His body was now used to the three hours of sleep he usually got, or so he told himself. It was easier to pretend everything was alright because acknowledging the truth was far too painful. The truth, was that it had been a year and a half since he’d left Hanna before in the middle of the night, he had taken his children to the country house up north. He believed they would be safe there. He also believed hat his wife would come after them, that his rash action would melt the ice he felt in her eyes and they would be forced to talk about the growing issue. Their marriage was collapsing, but they were too afraid (each in their own way) that if they pressed it would break.
After almost two years away Obi-Wan doubted he could keep going much longer. He wanted his family to be together, but a lifetime of outing duty before self had damaged him more than he could imagine. Whatever reasons he had for leaving only made sense to him, and even those were starting to lose meaning. The Jedi was blind to the very obvious fact that a family apart had far less chances of survival than it did together.
Ben looked out the window and sighed, the weight on his heart had become second nature and he had come to believe his pain was a self inflicted penance, a necessary evil. If for him to suffer was the price for his children’s safety, so be it. His eyes followed his two sons as they ran on the garden, always keeping within sight of the house, as per their father’s instruction. Qui and Ren laughed and played without a care in the world, making Ben smile slightly. His eyes had lost the spark they had once held, the shine on them only visible at times like this, when his kids were around.
The light fell and gave way to the night. Obi-Wan tucked his sons in bed and walked silently to the study where he slept. He closed the door and hit play on the vid player, the recording of his wedding comming up on the screen. He sat down on the old sofa, his hand reaching out and summoning a bottle of Corellian whiskey.
It was just another day followed by a normal night, and not even the sour-sweet haze produced by half a bottle of scotch could ease his troubled soul.