My heart leaps into my throat as he barks, “Can I have ten fucking minutes of silence, Tori?! Did you not hear what he said? I’m fucked up. My sperm doesn’t work, and I’m fucking broken. Let me process this without your incessant chatter in the background. Just shut the fuck up and let me think for ten goddamn minutes!”
The car fills with a heavy, oppressive silence, the kind that wraps around you and squeezes, making it impossible to breathe.
My fingers tremble as I clutch the brochure in my lap, the words blurring together as tears pool in my eyes.
Did he not hear a single word Dr. Ling said? Were we even in the same room?
“You aren’t broken, Chase,” I say softly, carefully. My voice feels small, like it might shatter under the weight of his anger.
“And we can still have a baby.”
I try to cling to the hope Dr. Ling gave us, to offer it to Chase like a lifeline, but he won’t take it.
“Try not to think about all the negatives and focus on the positives,” I continue, my voice shaking but determined.
“There’s hope! It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be?—”
“Jesus, fuck, Victoria! Stop fucking talking and let me think!” he yells, cutting me off mid-sentence. His words hit like a slap, leaving me reeling.
The brochure slips from my hands and falls to the floorboard, forgotten.
I was just trying to help. Trying to rescue him from drowning in his negative thoughts.
Offer a life raft. Let him know he’s not alone.
But he only wants to be alone.
Except that he doesn’t want to be alone.
I know that because when I leave him be and give him the space he seems to want, he’ll come back later and berate me for neglecting him. For not caring. For being too consumed with work and friends to notice him.
Damned if I do; damned if I don’t.
Trying to work my way through a maze with ever-changing walls and passageways. Never knowing which way is up. Always making the wrong decision.
But I keep walking. I keep studying. I keep learning the steps.
One day I’ll get it right.
Won’t I?
The rest of the drive home is silent. Not the kind of silence that offers peace or reflection.
No, this silence is heavy, suffocating, filled with all the words we aren’t saying.
I stare out the window, watching the world blur past, wondering how we got here. How did the people who once promised each other forever turn into this—a constant battle of resentment and unmet expectations?
When we pull into the driveway, Chase shuts off the engine and immediately gets out of the car without a word.
I sit there for a moment, watching as he slams the front door behind him, leaving me alone in the car with nothing but the sound of my own ragged breathing. My chest tightens, and I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood, anything to keep the tears from spilling over.
I finally gather the strength to push open the door and step out, my legs feeling like lead as I make my way inside.
The house is eerily quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. Chase is nowhere to be seen, but I don’t need to look for him. I already know he’s in his office, hiding behind a screen, avoiding me like he always does when things get hard.
I make my way to the bedroom, my body moving on autopilot as I strip off my jacket and shoes.
My reflection in the mirror catches my eye, and I stop, staring at the woman looking back at me. Her face is pale, her eyes rimmed red from holding back tears.
