Later that night, after he went upstairs, I stayed in the living room.
The house was quiet except for the sound of the clock ticking.
The letter was still sitting there on the table, its folded edge catching the light. I reached for it, smoothing my thumb over the crease.
‘Congratulations, Mr. Raymond… Washington D.C. program acceptance…’
The words blurred a little as I read. Not because I was crying or anything … just tired. That’s what I told myself, anyway.
He deserved this, he’d worked for it.
And if he went, I’d be happy for him.
That’s what love was supposed to look like, right?
Being happy for someone even when it scared you?
I pressed my hand against my stomach. The baby hadn’t kicked all day, but somehow, I could still feel the weight of it , that tiny, invisible reminder
