Yours,
Lucy
I fold all my letters carefully and tuck them away in a shoebox under my bed. Each one is a thread that keeps me tethered to him.
As the weeks pass, my bump starts to show. I wear loose sweaters and oversized hoodies. To throw everyone off, I say I'm stress eating. Grace smirks every time I say it.
The secret grows right along with my belly.
And then, the letters stop.
Nothing comes that week. Or the next.
I check the mail three times a day, fingers trembling as I reach into the box. But it's always empty. No slanted handwriting. No sketches. No Sunshine.
At night, I curl into my bed, holding his last letter tight to my chest.
I read the words again and again, praying that the next envelope will come.
But it doesn't.
Just silence.
And this time, it's louder than ever.
Chapter 3
Lucy
The silence is deafening, screaming in my ears.
It's been three weeks since I got Caden's last letter. Three weeks since I heard his voice in my head through his words, since I felt that thread of him holding me together.
While remembering the rules of military life, I try not to panic. Mail is inconsistent. Deployments are chaos. But no matter how many times I repeat it like a mantra, my stomach keeps twisting. We went through this with Noah, and the next call we got was that he was injured.
Grace squeezes my hand as we sit in the OB's waiting room, her knee bouncing beside mine. The TV overhead plays some morning show neither of us is watching. My thoughts are too loud, the room too bright, and the air too tight.
"You okay?" Grace asks, her voice low.
I nod, but it's a lie. I haven't been okay since the letters stopped.
The nurse calls my name, and I follow her back. Grace comes too, holding my hand as I climb onto the exam table. Keeping my eyes on the ceiling, I try to breathe.
The doctor is kind. Her voice is soft as she talks us through the appointment. She asks me about my symptoms, my nausea, the fatigue, and then has me lie back as she gets the Doppler ready.
"Let's check in on baby," she says with a smile.
The cold gel on my belly makes me flinch. Grace leans closer, watching the screen with wide eyes. The Doppler whirs to life, static at first, and then there it is.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Fast and strong.
My baby's heartbeat.
A sound that punches the air from my lungs and fills my chest with something fierce and raw. It's real. This little life is real.
I press my hand to my mouth and cry silently while Grace squeezes my fingers.
"You hear that?" Grace whispers. "That's your little warrior. Just like their daddy."
