“Where areyou?” she asks.
“The park,” I say.
“On the bench?”
“Yeah.”
“Ooh,” she murmurs, instantly clocking my mood. “What’s wrong?”
I shrug, even though she can’t see it. “Don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay,” she says simply. And just like that, she lets it go. I called her to ask for her opinion, but now that she’s on the line, the words won’t come out.
“How are the kids?” I ask eventually.
“They’re good. Missing their auntie. And their mom.” Her voice softens. “I’ve been gone a lot lately.”
“You have to,” I say. “It’s not like you’re out partying. You’re working.”
She exhales, a mix of exhaustion and annoyance. “It’s not just that. I’ve got this new boss and he’s…” She pauses, searching for the word. “Anass.”
“Oh my God,” I whisper conspiratorially. “You cursed.”
Stella laughs, a real one. “Well, he is. The man calls me at all hours of the day and night to do pointless crap.”
“That sucks.”
“It really does.”
We both go quiet after that. My heart thuds against my ribs as I pick at a loose thread on my jeans. “Stell… do you ever… regret it? You know. Becoming a mom?”
She’s quiet for a long moment, and when she speaks, her voice is softer, honest. “I want to toe the party line and say no,” she admits. “But… yeah. I have. Every mom has, at one point oranother. Maybe it’s during labour, or when you have trouble connecting to a child you just met.”
I swallow. “When was it for you?”
“For me?” She sighs. “I regretted it when I realised I’d done to my kids what our parents did to us.”
The words land heavy in my chest.
“I brought someone into their lives who wasn’t good for them,” she continues. “I stayed when I shouldn’t have. I let them see fights and hear empty promises, and for a while, I thought that was love. But then I realised I could be better. Ihadto be. So instead of holding on, I kicked him out. No more late-night yelling. No more waiting for change that was never coming.”
I close my eyes, a lump rising in my throat. Stella’s always been the strong one, the one who chooses the hard thing when it’s right. And now here she is, laying the truth out like it’s simple. Like it’s just a decision you make and stick to.
She goes quiet for a moment before adding softly, “And Brooke… I think I can guess why you’re asking. You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. But please remember this, we arenotour parents. Whatever you decide, it’s your choice. Just don’t let the past be the thing that holds you back.”
The words hit right where it hurts. My chest tightens until I can barely breathe. “Stell, I’m gonna call you back, okay?” I manage, my voice barely holding itself together.
“Brooke,” she says gently, “I’m here for you. Always.”
But I can’t. Not right now.
I hang up before she can say more. I wait for the tears, for the sobs but they never come.
“God,” I whisper to no one, “I’m not even sure I’m pregnant.”
But Ifeellike I am.
It’s ridiculous, I know. Bodies don’t magically know these things or maybe they do. Maybe the weight in my chest and the tightness in my belly are all in my head. Maybe they’re not.
