Chapter 23 Waiting
1075 Words
The hardest part wasn’t writing the letter.
It wasn’t sealing it.
It wasn’t even sliding it into the mailbox and hearing it drop with a hollow metallic thud that echoed louder than it should have.
The hardest part was the waiting.
Days passed differently after that.
Slower.
Heavier.
Every morning, Lily found herself listening for the sound of the mail truck before she was even fully awake. The familiar rumble of its engine moving down the street sent a rush of adrenaline through her body, no matter how much she told herself not to expect anything yet.
Mail took time.
Military mail took longer.
She knew that.
But logic didn’t quiet the anxiety.
By the fourth day, she was checking the mailbox twice.
By the seventh, she was pretending she just “happened” to be outside when the truck arrived.
Her mom noticed.
“You can’t hold your breath for an answer,” her mother said gently one evening as they washed dishes side by side.
Lily kept her eyes on the soap bubbles sliding down the plate in her hands.
“I’m not,” she lied softly.
But she was.
Because silence could mean anything.
Silence could mean shock.
Silence could mean anger.
Silence could mean he didn’t know what to say.
Or worse—
Silence could mean he didn’t want this.
Her hand drifted instinctively to her stomach as she dried her hands and headed to her room that night.
Emma kicked more often now. Not constantly, but enough that Lily had learned the rhythm. Mornings were softer. Evenings were stronger. Almost like her daughter came alive when the world quieted down.
Lily lay back carefully against her pillows and pressed both hands against her belly.
“You’re patient,” she whispered.
A small thump answered her.
She smiled despite herself.
“I’m trying to be.”
But patience had never been her strength.
Especially not when it came to Ethan.
She missed him in the quietest ways.
In the space beside her at night.
In the empty passenger seat when she drove to appointments.
In the absence of his laugh during moments that should’ve been shared.
She hated that she still loved him this much.
Hated that even after he left without telling her, her heart still tightened at the thought of his name written across an envelope.
On the tenth day, she broke.
The mailbox was empty again.
She stood there longer than she needed to, staring inside like maybe a letter would magically appear if she waited long enough.
Her throat tightened.
“Come on,” she whispered under her breath, as if willing the universe to move faster.
When she walked back inside, she didn’t bother hiding her disappointment.
Her mom looked up from the couch.
“Nothing?”
Lily shook her head.
Her mother patted the cushion beside her. Lily sat down slowly, exhaustion heavier than usual.
“He’s in training, sweetheart. He might not even have gotten it yet.”
“I know.”
But knowing didn’t make it easier.
Because every day that passed without a response allowed doubt to grow.
What if he felt trapped?
What if he resented her?
What if he thought she’d done this on purpose to keep him tied to her?
The thought made her stomach twist.
“I didn’t plan this,” she whispered fiercely, more to herself than anyone else.
Another kick answered her, firm and steady.
She closed her eyes.
“I know, baby,” she murmured.
Later that night, she sat at her desk with her phone in her hand, staring at his contact name.
She couldn’t call.
He didn’t have regular access to his phone.
Even if he did, what would she say?
Did you get my life-changing letter?
She tossed the phone onto her bed with a frustrated sigh.
She hated feeling this powerless.
Hated that everything about this situation required waiting—waiting for letters, waiting for months to pass, waiting for him to come home, waiting for her body to change, waiting for Emma to arrive.
Her entire life felt suspended between what was and what would be.
And she was stuck in the middle.
That night, sleep didn’t come easily.
When it finally did, it came in restless waves.
She dreamed of Ethan standing across a field she couldn’t cross. She tried to call out to him, but no sound came. He looked at her like he wanted to move, but something held him in place.
She woke up with tears on her cheeks.
Her room was still dark.
Her hand flew to her stomach automatically.
“I’m here,” she whispered, grounding herself in the present.
Emma shifted gently beneath her palm.
Real.
Solid.
With or without Ethan’s response, this was real.
On the fourteenth day, when the mail truck finally stopped in front of their house again, Lily didn’t run outside.
She stayed in the kitchen, hands gripping the edge of the counter.
If she didn’t expect it, it couldn’t hurt as much.
Her mom opened the door.
Footsteps approached.
Paper rustled.
Then—
“Lily.”
Her voice was different this time.
Lily turned slowly.
There it was.
A white envelope.
His handwriting.
Her heart slammed so hard against her ribs she thought she might faint.
For a split second, she couldn’t move.
This was it.
Whatever was inside that envelope would change everything.
Her mother walked toward her and placed it gently in her hand.
No words.
Just quiet support.
Lily stared at it, fear and hope tangling together inside her chest.
Emma kicked suddenly, sharp and almost insistent.
Lily let out a shaky breath.
“Okay,” she whispered.
She wasn’t alone anymore.
Whatever his answer was—joy, panic, confusion, anger—she would face it.
For her daughter.
For herself.
She squared her shoulders and walked down the hallway to her room, closing the door behind her.
The envelope felt heavier than paper should.
And as she sat on the edge of her bed, fingers sliding carefully beneath the seal, she realized something with startling clarity:
Waiting had changed her.
The girl who once measured her life in school dances and football games was gone.
In her place was someone braver.
Someone who understood that love wasn’t just butterflies and promises.
It was endurance.
It was fear.
It was choosing to open the letter anyway.
She unfolded the page slowly.
And began to read.
- Writer
