The Space Between Us

The Divide

The next week, Kassie stood in her kitchen watching Daniel fix the leaky faucet, his shoulders tense with concentration as he worked. She’d been carrying the secret for too long now, and it felt like a physical weight in her chest. Every normal moment between them—him texting her during his lunch break, asking about her day, promising to stop by after he was back from taking Lindy back home—felt like a lie by omission.

“Hand me that wrench?” he asked, not looking up from under the sink.

She passed it to him, their fingers brushing briefly. Such a simple touch, but it reminded her of the first time he’d touched her, three years ago in that crowded bar downtown. She’d been there with girlfriends, celebrating Sarah’s promotion, when she’d wandered over to the pool tables looking for a distraction from her friends’ increasingly loud conversation about their dating disasters.

He’d been alone at the corner table, wearing a black hoodie and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, methodically working his way through a game of solo pool. Something about the quiet focus of him had drawn her attention. While everyone else in the bar seemed desperate to be noticed, he was perfectly content to be invisible.

“Mind if I play?” she’d asked, surprising herself. She wasn’t usually the type to approach strangers, especially not in a little black dress and heels that were already pinching her feet.

He’d looked up then, and she’d seen those dark eyes for the first time, studying her with a mixture of surprise and interest. “You sure you want to play against me?” he’d asked, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’ve been here for two hours. I’m pretty warmed up.”

“I’ll take my chances,” she’d said, reaching for a cue stick.

She’d won that first game, and the second. By the third, they were talking more than playing, leaning against the table between shots, the noise of the bar fading into background static. He’d told her about his job in construction, how he lived close by. She’d told him about her photography job, how she’d grown up here but was thinking about moving somewhere bigger, somewhere with more opportunities.

“Why haven’t you?” he’d asked.

She’d considered the question seriously, rolling the cue ball between her palms. “I guess I’m waiting for a good enough reason.”

He’d smiled then, that crooked smile that would become as familiar to her as her own reflection. “Maybe you just haven’t found it yet.”

By closing time, they’d exchanged numbers. By the end of the week, she’d known she wasn’t going anywhere.

“There,” Daniel said now, pulling her back to the present as he emerged from under the sink. “That should hold for a while.” He wiped his hands on a dish towel, looking pleased with himself. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving.”

This was it. The moment she’d been building up to all day. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she watched him wash his hands at the newly fixed faucet.

“Daniel,” she said, her voice coming out smaller than intended. “We need to talk.”

Something in her tone made him turn, his expression shifting from casual to concerned in an instant. “What’s wrong?”

She took a deep breath, trying to find the words she’d been rehearsing all day. But now that the moment was here, her carefully planned speech evaporated.

“I’m pregnant.”

The words hung in the air between them like a physical thing. Daniel went very still, his hands dripping water into the sink, his face cycling through emotions too quickly for her to read.

“Pregnant,” he repeated slowly, as if testing the word. “But… that’s impossible. You can’t—”

“I know.” She rushed to fill the silence, her words tumbling over each other. “I know it shouldn’t be possible. The doctor explained it—something called tubal recanalization. It’s rare, but it can happen years after the procedure.”

Daniel turned off the faucet with more force than necessary, his movements sharp and controlled. “How far along?”

“About eight weeks,” she said, watching him do the math, seeing the exact moment it clicked. Eight weeks ago had been that weekend when Lindy was sick and couldn’t make her visit. They’d had an unexpected weekend alone, just the two of them and her kids. Lee had been at a sleepover, and Aaron and Marie had camped out in the living room, giving them rare privacy.

That night, they’d made love quietly, tenderly, filled with the contentment that came from a house full of sleeping children and nowhere else to be. Kassie had fallen asleep thinking about how natural he was with her kids, how Aaron sought out his approval and Marie always wanted to show him her latest cheer routine.

Now, watching his face, she wondered if he was remembering the same thing or if his mind had gone somewhere else entirely.

“A baby,” he said, running his hands through his hair—a gesture she recognized as his stress response. “Jesus, Kassie. A baby.”

“I know it’s not what we planned,” she said quickly. “I know the timing isn’t ideal with everything else going on, but—”

“Everything else?” Daniel’s voice sharpened. “You mean Lindy.”

The name hung between them like an accusation. Kassie felt her stomach clench.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Isn’t it?” He was pacing now, three steps to the window, three steps back. “God, how am I supposed to do this? How am I supposed to take care of a baby when I can barely manage the relationship I have with Lindy as it is?”

The words hit her like a slap. “Barely manage? Daniel, you’re an amazing father. Lindy adores you.”

“Lindy sees me one week a month!” he exploded, then immediately lowered his voice, glancing toward the door. “One week, Kassie. I’m missing everything else. Her school plays, her soccer games, the day-to-day stuff that actually matters. I’m already failing her, and now you want me to have another child I’ll barely see?”

Kassie stared at him, feeling the ground shift beneath her feet. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. In her mind, he might have been surprised, maybe worried about logistics or money, but she’d never imagined this—this look of near panic in his eyes, as if she’d just told him his worst fear was coming true.

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” she said desperately. “This baby would be here, with us. You wouldn’t be missing anything.”

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “And what happens to Lindy then? When this baby is here, crying at three in the morning, needing constant attention, how long before I start resenting those week-long visits? How long before I start making excuses not to drive five hours each way?”

“You would never do that,” she said, reaching for him, but he stepped away.

“Wouldn’t I? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like I’m about to become exactly what I swore I’d never be—a father who abandons one kid for another.”

The accusation hung in the air between them, ugly and raw. Kassie felt tears burning behind her eyes, but she blinked them back.

“That’s not what this is,” she whispered.

“Isn’t it?” Daniel’s voice was hollow now, defeated. “My dad did the same thing, you know. Had me, then met someone new, had kids with her. Suddenly I was the inconvenience, the complication from his old life. I swore I’d never do that to Lindy.”

Kassie remembered him telling her about his father during one of their late-night conversations in those early days of dating. How his dad had slowly disappeared from his life after remarrying, how visits became sporadic, then stopped altogether. How Daniel had spent his childhood feeling like he’d been replaced by a newer, better family.

“You’re not your father,” she said firmly.

“How do you know?” The question came out fierce, desperate. “How do you know I won’t choose the easier option? The baby that’s here, in my house, every day, over the daughter who lives five hours away with a mother who already thinks I’m not good enough for her?”

“Because I know you,” Kassie said, her own voice breaking now. “Because I’ve watched you rearrange your entire work schedule around Lindy’s visits. Because I’ve seen you practice her spelling words over FaceTime. Because you love her more than anything in this world.”

“Exactly.” Daniel’s hands were shaking now. “I love her. And what kind of father does it make me if I bring another child into this world when I already can’t be the father she deserves?”

“You are the father she deserves,” Kassie said softly. “And you could be an amazing father to this baby too.”

“Could I?” Daniel turned to face her fully, and she saw the raw fear in his eyes. “Or would I just be dividing myself so thin that both kids end up with half a father?”

For a moment, Kassie thought they might find their way through this. That his fear was something they could work with, something they could overcome together. But then Daniel looked at her, really looked at her, and she saw something close to panic in his expression.

“I can’t do this, Kassie,” he said quietly. “I can’t risk becoming the father who chooses one child over the other. I won’t do that to Lindy.”

The words hit her like ice water. “What are you saying?”

Daniel was quiet for a long moment, staring out the window at the darkening sky. When he spoke again, his voice was so low she almost missed it.

“I’m saying maybe this isn’t the right time. Maybe we’re not ready for this.”

Kassie felt something cold and terrible settle in her chest. “We?”

“I’m not ready for this.”

The correction felt like a door slamming shut. Standing in her kitchen, surrounded by the ordinary details of their shared life, Kassie felt the space between them yawn open like a chasm.

And for the first time since seeing those two pink lines, she wondered if love really was enough to bridge the distance after all.