“I’ve got a business trip to Greenfield,” he said once, throwing clothes into a suitcase.
“Another one? You just got back two days ago.”
“It’s the Henderson account, babe. You know how important this is.”
I did know. Or at least, I thought I did. Mason worked in commercial real estate, and the Henderson account was supposedly his golden ticket to partnership. So I smiled and kissed him goodbye and spent another three nights alone in our bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering why grief felt so much heavier when you carried it by yourself.
Close-up shot of a thoughtful woman | Source: Unsplash
By the time two months had passed, Mason was barely home. When he was there, he was distant and distracted. He’d look at his phone and smile at something, then catch me watching, and the smile would disappear.
“Who’s texting you?” I asked once.
“Just work stuff,” he said, not meeting my eyes.
I wanted to push. I wanted to grab that phone and see for myself. But I was so tired and worn down by loss and loneliness that I just nodded and went back to staring at nothing.
Close-up shot of a woman staring | Source: Unsplash
My sister, Delaney, has always had a gift for making everything about her.
When I graduated from college, she announced her successful interview on the same day. When I got my first promotion, she showed up at the celebration dinner in a neck brace from a “car accident” that turned out to be a minor fender bender in a parking lot.
So when she called a family gathering three months after my miscarriage, I should’ve known something was coming.
We were all at my parents’ house. Mom had made her famous pot roast. Dad was carving the meat. My aunt Sharon was complaining about her neighbors. It was almost normal, almost comfortable, until Delaney stood up and tapped her wine glass with a fork.
A group of women gathered around a dining table | Source: Unsplash
“Everyone, I have an announcement,” she said, her voice trembling just enough to get attention.
My mother’s face lit up. “Oh, honey, what is it?”
Delaney placed a hand on her stomach. Her eyes were already shining with tears.
“I’m pregnant!”
The room exploded with congratulations. My mother actually screamed and rushed over to hug her. My aunt Sharon started crying. Dad stood there looking proud and protective.
I sat frozen in my chair, feeling like I’d been slapped.
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
“But there’s something else,” Delaney continued, and now the tears were really flowing. “The father… he doesn’t want anything to do with us. He left me. Told me he wasn’t ready to be a dad and just… walked away.”
My mother’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, sweetheart. Oh no.”
“I’m going to be doing this alone,” Delaney sobbed. “I’m so scared. I don’t know how I’m going to manage.”
Everyone rushed to comfort her. They promised they’d help. They told her how strong she was, how brave, and how she’d be an amazing mother.
No one looked at me. No one asked how I was doing. My grief, my loss, my empty arms… it all disappeared under the weight of Delaney’s new tragedy.
I excused myself to the bathroom and threw up.
A devastated woman sitting in the bathroom | Source: Pexels
Three weeks later, the invitation came. Delaney was throwing a gender reveal party, and I was invited.
“You don’t have to go,” Mason said when I showed him the pink envelope.
It was one of the few nights he was actually home. We were in the kitchen. He was drinking a beer. I was picking at a salad I had no interest in eating.
“She’s my sister.”
“She’s also been pretty insensitive about everything you’ve been through.”
I looked at him, surprised. It was the most he’d acknowledged my feelings in weeks.
“I think I should go,” I said. “It’ll look weird if I don’t.”
He shrugged. “It’s your call.”
An upset man | Source: Midjourney
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