The Space Between Us

Kassie stared at the pink lines on the pregnancy test, her hands trembling as she held the plastic stick. Two lines. Definitely two lines. She blinked hard, hoping they might disappear, but they remained stubbornly there—clear and undeniable. This was impossible. Medically impossible. She set the test on the bathroom counter and gripped the edge of the sink, studying her reflection in the mirror. Her face looked pale, almost ghostly under the harsh fluorescent light. Ten years since her tubal ligation. Ten years of certainty that this chapter of her life was permanently closed. The doctor’s words from this morning echoed in her mind: “I know this comes as a shock, given your surgical history. It’s rare, but tubal recanalization can occur. You’re about eight weeks along, and everything looks perfectly healthy.” Perfectly healthy. The irony wasn’t lost on her. Nothing about this felt perfect. A crash from downstairs interrupted her spiraling thoughts, followed by her twelve-year-old’s exasperated voice: “Mom! Marie knocked over the lamp!” “It was an accident!” nine-year-old Marie shouted back. “I’ll be right there!” Kassie called, her voice sounding strange and distant to her own ears. She quickly shoved the test into the bathroom drawer behind her tampons, splashing cold water on her face. Her three kids—Lee, Aaron, and Marie—needed her attention. They always needed her attention. How could she possibly divide herself further? She hurried downstairs to find Lee holding the base of her reading lamp while ten-year-old Aaron swept up ceramic shards from around Marie’s feet. “Sorry, Mom,” Marie said, her lower lip quivering. “I was just trying to reach my cheer bow from behind the table.” “It’s okay, sweetheart. Accidents happen.” Kassie ruffled her hair, forcing normalcy into her voice. “Aaron, can you grab the dustpan? Lee, just leave the lamp on the counter for now.” As she helped clean up the mess, her phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. Daniel’s name flashed on the screen with a text: *Hope your appointment went well. Picking up Lindy tomorrow for the week. Can I see you tonight before I leave?* Kassie stared at the message, her stomach clenching. Daniel would drive five hours tomorrow to pick up Lindy, probably stay at that hotel near his ex’s place like he always did to make the handoff easier. When Lindy was with him—which was one week every month—Kassie became invisible. Daniel was convinced that having another woman around his daughter would upset Lindy’s mother, and he refused to risk any complications with his custody arrangement. Even if she wanted to tell him in person, it would have to wait until Lindy went back to her mother’s next Friday. Her phone buzzed again. This time it was her sister: *How did the doctor’s appointment go? Call me!* “Mom?” Lee appeared beside her, studying her face with the perceptive eyes of a twelve-year-old who’d already lived through one family upheaval. His dark hair was still messy from football practice, and he had that quiet way of watching everything without saying much. “You look weird. Are you sick?” “Just tired, buddy.” Kassie tucked her phone away without responding to either text. “What do you guys want for dinner?” “Can we have pizza?” Marie asked hopefully. “We had pizza Tuesday,” Aaron pointed out, but he was grinning. “Mom said we’re trying to eat healthier. But I vote pizza anyway because I’m still growing and need the calcium from cheese. That’s science, right Mom?” “Pizza sounds perfect tonight,” Kassie said, surprising all three of them. She needed something simple, something that didn’t require her to focus on cooking when her mind was spinning in circles. As the kids cheered and started debating toppings, Kassie retreated to the kitchen to place the order. Her hand instinctively moved to her stomach—still flat, still showing no signs of the impossibility growing inside her. Eight weeks. She’d been carrying this secret for two months without even knowing it. The last time she’d been pregnant was with Marie, nine years ago. Back when she’d been married to David, back when their family had felt complete and stable and normal. Before she’d discovered his drug problem, before the lies and broken promises, before the lawyers and the carefully negotiated custody agreement that had ultimately given her full custody when David chose drugs over his children. She’d gotten her tubes tied during Marie’s C-section when she was twenty years old. She and David had made the decision together—two boys and a girl, their family was complete. Twenty years old and absolutely certain she was done. Done with pregnancy, done with the chaos of managing three small children. If only she’d known then what David would become, how drugs would steal the man she’d married and leave her to raise their children alone. Then she’d met Daniel three years ago, and everything had changed—except the part about being done having babies. That had been non-negotiable, and Daniel had accepted it. He had Lindy from his previous relationship, she had her three, and together they’d built something careful and beautiful and separate. “Mom?” Aaron appeared at her elbow, spinning a baseball in his hands—he was always fidgeting with something. “The pizza place wants to know if we want the usual. Also, can I tell them my joke about the pepperoni? I’ve been working on it all week.” “Yes to the usual, maybe save the joke for after we order,” she said automatically, then realized she’d been standing there holding her phone for several minutes without dialing. She ordered the pizza, then sat at the kitchen table watching her children argue over a board game. Marie was trying to explain the rules while balancing a cheer routine she’d been practicing, lifting one leg behind her as she gestured. Aaron was making jokes about the game pieces, comparing them to his baseball teammates, while Lee organized everything with quiet efficiency, probably thinking about getting back to his video game upstairs once dinner was over. These were her babies—not babies anymore, really, but still hers in that fierce, protective way that had only intensified since the divorce. Lee with his thoughtful silence and surprising insights. Aaron with his endless energy and ability to find humor in everything, always working twice as hard as his siblings to get noticed between his older brother’s accomplishments and his little sister’s charm. Marie with her boundless enthusiasm and the way she threw herself into everything—cheer, friendships, even cleaning up broken lamps—with complete commitment. How could she tell them they were getting a sibling? How could she explain that Mom, who’d always been honest about not wanting more children, was suddenly pregnant at thirty? They’d weathered the divorce, adjusted to her dating Daniel, learned to share her attention during his visits. Lee was finally opening up more, Aaron was thriving in baseball season, and Marie had just made the competitive cheer team. Now she was supposed to tell them that everything was changing again? And Daniel. God, Daniel. Three years together, and they’d never even discussed living together. It worked for them—he was close enough for dinner dates and weekend sleepovers when Lindy wasn’t with him, her kids had their routines and schools, and Daniel’s self-imposed boundaries kept his two worlds carefully separate. They’d learned to love each other in the spaces between his parental obligations and his fear of upsetting his ex. It was complicated but manageable. A baby would change everything. Her phone rang, startling her from her thoughts. Daniel’s name on the screen. “Hey,” she answered, stepping into the living room where the kids’ game noise would cover her voice. “Hey yourself. How was the appointment? Everything okay with your blood work?” His voice was warm and familiar, with that slight rasp that came from years of shouting over construction noise. She’d been dating him for three years, loved him for most of that time, and now she was carrying his child. A child that shouldn’t exist, that defied medical explanation, that would complicate everything they’d carefully built around the constraints of his custody arrangement. “The blood work was fine,” she said, which was technically true. “Just… you know how I get about medical stuff.” “I do. I’m glad it’s over. Are you feeling better now?” She closed her eyes, leaning against the doorframe. “Daniel…” “Yeah?” The words were right there: *I’m pregnant. I know it’s impossible, but I’m pregnant with your baby.* But across the room, Marie was giggling at something Aaron had said, and Lee was patiently helping him move his game piece, and this was their normal Friday night. Their predictable, stable, carefully constructed life. “I miss you,” she said instead. “I miss you too. I hate that I have to leave for a week right when you’ve been stressed about this appointment. But I’ll be back next Friday, and we can spend the whole weekend together. Just us and your kids.” *Just us and your kids.* The careful separation in his words wasn’t lost on her. Her children, his daughter, never the two groups mixing. Daniel’s choice, not the court’s, but just as rigid. He was terrified that introducing Kassie into Lindy’s world would give his ex ammunition to limit his time with his daughter. But a baby would belong to both worlds—a permanent bridge between the families Daniel insisted on keeping apart. “That sounds perfect,” she said. “Kassie? You sound… I don’t know. Off. Are you sure everything’s okay?” She looked at her children, absorbed in their game, trusting her to keep their world stable and safe. She thought about Daniel, about to disappear for a week into his parallel life with Lindy. She thought about the impossible test hidden in her bathroom drawer. “Everything’s fine,” she lied. “Just tired. Long week.” “Get some rest tonight. I’ll see you when I get back from dropping Lindy off next week, okay?” “Okay. I love you.” “Love you too.” After she hung up, Kassie stood in her living room listening to her children’s laughter and feeling like she was standing on the edge of a cliff. Everything was about to change—her body, her family, her relationship with Daniel, the careful boundaries he’d insisted on to protect his relationship with Lindy. The pizza arrived twenty minutes later, and they ate it on the living room floor while watching a movie Marie had picked—some Disney thing Aaron kept making jokes about until even Lee cracked a smile. Normal Friday night routine. But as Marie leaned against her shoulder and Aaron explained plot points with exaggerated voices while Lee quietly shared his breadsticks, Kassie’s hand kept drifting to her stomach. Eight weeks. In seven months, there would be a baby. Daniel’s baby. Their baby. A child who would exist in both worlds whether Daniel’s ex liked it or not. She just had to figure out how to tell Daniel that their carefully compartmentalized relationship was about to become permanently complicated. And what would happen if this pregnancy forced him to choose between keeping his ex happy and building a real future with her.