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“But it’s real.”

I closed my eyes. For a moment, I remembered the girl I used to be. She stayed awake until sunrise because she wanted to finish a painting. She made plans without checking feeding schedules. She could leave the house without packing diapers, bottles, blankets, and three different outfits. Her body belonged to her, and she never questioned who she was when she looked into a mirror.

Now my days revolved around Seth. My marriage revolved around Richard. Somewhere between becoming a wife and becoming a mother, I disappeared.

“I miss you,” Leanne said. “I miss your face, and I need to meet that beautiful baby. I’ll come next month, even if I have to threaten my agent.”

I laughed, and this time it felt genuine. “Don’t threaten your agent because of me.”

“She can survive it.”

“We should do something when you come back. Just us.”

“Absolutely. I’m stealing you for an entire day.”

“Richard might object.”

“Then Richard can practice being a father while you remember you’re still a person.”

We talked a little longer, but I could feel myself slipping again. My voice caught in the wrong places. Every laugh sounded rehearsed. I kept trying to convince her that I was fine, hoping that if I performed the role well enough, neither of us would hear the truth.

I envied her freedom. But most of all, I envied the fact that Leanne still recognized herself.

When we finally hung up, the loneliness rushed back in heavier than before. The empty side of the bed was a reminder of Richard’s late nights at the office. I set the phone down and stared at the half-finished sketchbook on my nightstand, pages I hadn’t touched in weeks. The unfinished pages reminded me how much of myself I had abandoned.

I loved the life I chose. The family. But loving it did not stop the ache of wondering what might have been if I had chosen differently.

Seth started to cry. It was soft at first, then louder, building quickly in a way that made my anxiety spike.

“I know,” I whispered, adjusting him in my arms. “I got you.”

I checked everything. He was fed. He was clean. He should’ve been fine. But he kept crying.

“It’s okay,” I said again, even though it didn’t seem to help.

The door opened behind me. Richard stepped in. He took in the scene immediately, his gaze moving from me to Seth, then back again.

“What’s wrong with him?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “He just started crying.”

“He ate?”

“Yes.”

“And you changed him?”

“Yes.”

He stepped closer, his expression tightening slightly as he watched Seth.

“Then why is he still crying?” he asked.

“He’s a baby,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “Sometimes they just cry.”

Richard reached for him.

“Give him to me.”