When Daddy Goes Away

The old rocking chair creaked a gentle rhythm in the dimly lit room. Elias settled his small daughter, Lily, onto his lap. She was nestled against his chest, her blonde hair tickling his chin. He held the worn copy of "The Velveteen Rabbit" in his hands, its pages soft and familiar.

"Are you comfy, my love?" he whispered, his voice thick with a tenderness that went beyond the usual bedtime ritual.

"Yes, Daddy," she murmured, her eyelids already drooping.

He opened the book, the scent of old paper filling the air. He began to read, his voice a soothing baritone, each word measured and full of love. He read about the velveteen rabbit's journey to becoming real, about being loved and cherished. He paused at his favorite parts, adding extra emphasis, just as he always did. Lily stirred, her small hand reaching up to touch his cheek. He turned his face and kissed her palm.

But tonight, the story felt different. Each word carried a weight, a poignant sweetness. Elias found himself lingering on the descriptions of the rabbit's soft fur, the child's gentle touch. He looked at Lily's face, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. He memorized the way her eyelashes fluttered, the slight upturn of her lips as she drifted closer to sleep.

He knew this was the last time. The last bedtime story. Tomorrow, he would go away. Far away. He wouldn't be coming back. He had explained it to her as best he could, in words a five-year-old could understand, about stars and faraway places. But she didn't truly understand. She just knew that her daddy was leaving.

As he read the final words, "...once you are real you can't be unreal again. It lasts for always," his voice cracked. He swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. He finished the sentence, his voice barely a whisper.

He closed the book, holding it against his chest for a moment. He looked down at Lily. She was fast asleep, her breathing soft and even. He kissed her forehead, the scent of her hair filling him with a love so profound it ached.

"I love you," he whispered, the words a silent promise in the quiet room. He rocked her gently, the chair groaning softly, a lullaby of its own. He stayed there for a long time, holding her, memorizing every detail, etching this moment into his heart. The last bedtime story. A final act of love. A memory to last forever.