Selene

  Eight months had passed since my world collapsed and life was settling into a quiet, uncertain rhythm. I stand in the parking lot, packing bags into my trunk. The crisp autumn air bites at my cheeks. I tug my jacket tighter around me as my phone buzzes in my pocket.

  "Hey, Nia," I breathe, cradling the phone between my shoulder and ear as I load the last bag.

  "Hey, girl. How are you holding up?" Nia’s voice was warm and steady. My lifeline that never judged.

  "I'm okay," I say, trying to make the words sound true. “Life continues.”

  “I hear you girl, I’m just checking in,” Nia coos through the phone. “Everything going okay since Adrian’s been home?”

  I sigh, "I’ve been thinking about trying to get pregnant again, but… I don’t know if it’s too soon. I haven’t brought it up with him yet.”

  The wind howls against the receiver.

  "That’s understandable. You’ve both been through so much. Has Adrian been acting differently? Is that why you haven’t said anything?” she probes softly.

  I shut the trunk and lean against the car. “Yeah, he immediately went back to working. At first, it was remote, but now he’s in the office. Said bein’ home was depressing.” I roll my eyes.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  He said it like being home hurt, she doesn’t need to know that part though.

  "That makes sense," Nia responded. "And now that he’s out more?"

  "He’s just distant," I say, my voice catching that low country edge it always did when I’m trying not to cry. "We’ve started havin’ sex again, but it’s rare. I don’t know if it’s because of the loss… or if somethin’ else is going on."

  I catch myself counting the times as proof of connection… or proof that its fading.

  "Maybe he just needs a change," Nia offered. "It’s been a heavy year.”

  I nod to myself. "Yeah. I just want things to feel normal again. I want to talk to him, but the truth is… I’m scared."

  I don’t just want a baby. This instinct sits in my chest like a slow, bruising pressure. I feel my body still reaching, still preparing, still aching to care for someone who never got to stay. The feeling never really goes away.

  There’s so much more I want to say, but the words are stuck.

  The hospital room came back in fragments. The hush of machines, the ache in my chest, and Alarica, slipping out of the shadows like a ghost with unfinished business, already watching me.

  He’s not who you think he is.

  I can’t recall her exact words, only the warning they left behind.

  Her voice haunts the silence. And the look in Alarica’s eyes... God, it wasn’t jealousy or drama.

  It was fear. Real, visceral fear.

  I swallow hard as the wind rattles my body, pulling me back into the parking lot.

  “Do you think he’s ready?” Nia asks as I slide into the car, my teeth chattering from more than just the cold. “You both need to be on the same page.”

  I sit with my phone pressed to my ear, listening to her breathe on the other end. She’s waiting. I can hear it in the pause she leaves me, the way she doesn’t rush to fill the silence.

  I swallow.

  My fingers tighten around the phone. I stare out at the street, at a car passing too slowly, at nothing at all. If I tell her everything, it becomes real. It stops being contained. It spreads.

  I inhale deeply. “I guess I should talk to him, maybe I’ll mention it in therapy. You’re right, Nia. Thanks.”

  “Anytime, Sel. You know I’m here.”