Echoes of the past
1219 Words
Chapter 2: Echoes of the Past
The house was quiet again.
Emily had fallen asleep in the living room, curled up on the couch with a soft blanket and her favorite stuffed bunny, Mr. Wiggles. Aiden stood in the hall and looked at her, his heart aching at the peaceful innocence reflected on her small face. Her hair spilled over the pillow in dark curls, and her chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths.
Aiden stood still for another moment before stepping backward, his feet barely making a noise on the hardwood floor as he moved to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water and leaned against the counter, his gaze drifting to the pictures taped to the fridge. They were all pictures of Emily laughing, smiling, growing older. Aiden and Emily at the zoo. Emily with her birthday cake. Emily on her first day of kindergarten. But a photo, in the corner, was different from the others. It was faded now, the edges slightly curled. It was a much younger Aiden, his arm around a lovely woman with auburn hair and melancholy eyes.
Sarah.
The name resonated through his head like a whisper in an empty space.
It had been nearly five years, yet sometimes it seemed just yesterday. The recollections snuck up unbidden, unexpected. Like tonight, after seeing Emily's empty face and listening to her fragile voice whisper, "Why don't I have a mommy?"
Aiden closed his eyes.
Five Years Ago
He remembered the day he first met her. It was at the hospital cafeteria. Aiden was beginning his pediatric residency, worn out and red-eyed from long shifts and sleepless nights. Sarah was a visiting medical student from Boston, smart, confident, with a touch of rebelliousness in the way she carried herself.
She'd dropped her tray near his table, and he'd helped her clean it up. They'd spoken initially about the usual things the exorbitant coffee prices, the never-ending rotations, the shared exhaustion of hospital work. But something about her had stayed with him.
They ran into each other a week later in the neonatal ward. Sarah was dealing with the babies gently, her voice low and gentle. Aiden watched her from across the room and knew, there and then, that he had to know her better.
They started spending more time together study groups turned into dinners, after-work walks, quiet nights in her tiny apartment with takeout containers and giggles. They both understood the insanity of hospital life, the lengthy hours and also the emotional toll. But even amidst the chaos, they took comfort in each other.
When Sarah found out she was pregnant, Aiden was shocked but not upset. He'd gotten down on his knees before her, placed his hand on her belly, and promised her everything: love, support, and a future. They'd moved into a small house on the outskirts of Portland, away from the bustle of the hospital, and tried to build a life together.
Something changed after Emily's birth, however.
Sarah pulled away from him. Became reserved. Her smiles didn't reach her eyes anymore. Aiden had thought at first it was exhaustion postpartum depression, the stress of new motherhood. But the distance grew, expanded. She would be gone for hours, even days, under the guise of visiting with friends or picking up overtime shifts. Her phone was always off. Her excuses always vague.
Aiden confronted her one night, standing in the doorway of their bedroom as Sarah packed an overnight bag.
"Are you having an affair?" he asked, his voice raspy with desperation.
She paused, still with her back to him. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore, Aiden."
He took a step forward. "We have a daughter. Don't you want to be there for her?"
"Of course I do," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "But I'm drowning here. I can't breathe. I thought I could be a mother, but I'm not cut out for this."
"Then what were we doing all this time? Was it all a lie?"
"No. It wasn't a lie. But it also wasn't enough."
She was gone that night. No big goodbye. No promises to return. A note on the kitchen counter and the sound of the front door closing behind her.
Present Day
Aiden sat at the kitchen table now, the note still folded in his wallet, the ink faded but the words burned forever in his mind.
Aiden,
I'm sorry. I wish I could be the woman you want me to be, the mom Emily needs. But I'm not. I love her I do. But I don't know how to be what she needs. Perhaps someday I'll learn. Until then, take care of her, please. She deserves more than I can provide.
-Sarah
He ran a hand over his face, blinking to dispel the sting of tears. He had told himself a thousand times that Sarah's departure had made him stronger, more motivated. That raising Emily on his own was a blessing in disguise. And yet there were nights like this one when the cumulative weight of it all caught up with him.
He had gone to court alone to obtain full custody. Sarah didn't contest it. She signed the papers with a barely spoken word. It was as if she had wiped herself from their existence completely.
But the past never truly went away. It left behind whispers, traces, shadows. Aiden felt it in the way Emily would sit and stare out the window, waiting. He heard it in her questions the ones he could never truly answer.
"Was Mommy pretty?"
"Did Mommy love me?"
He always said yes. Because no matter how Sarah had left, she had once held their daughter in her arms and cried tears of joy.
The muffled noise of a cry snapped him out of his daydream. Aiden got up and walked into the living room.
Emily was sitting up on the couch, rubbing her eyes. "Daddy?"
He knelt beside her. "Hey, sweetheart. You okay?"
"I had a bad dream."
"Come here."
She climbed into his lap, curling against his chest like a kitten seeking warmth. Aiden wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair.
"Tell me about your dream," he whispered.
"I was looking for you, but I couldn’t find you anywhere. And everyone else had their mommy and daddy, but I was all alone."
Aiden closed his eyes, guilt swirling in his chest. "You're never alone, Emmy. I'm here. Always."
She nodded sleepily into him. "Do you think Mommy misses me?"
He paused.
"I think she remembers you. And I think, wherever she is, she wants the best for you."
It wasn't the truth, not really. But it wasn't a lie, either.
Emily's breathing slowed again, her body growing more weighted in his arms. Aiden held her for some time, rocking her gently as the room fell silent once more.
The past had wrought its hurts. But Aiden didn't need perfect. He was just trying to build a life one bedtime story, one lunchbox note, one hug at a time.
He looked down at the child sleeping in his arms, a daughter born of love and grief, and he knew she was his reason to go on.
The specters of the past would never be vanquished.
But neither would he.
- Writer
