Lauren packed her things quietly,
Her hands moving with the shaky precision of someone with a mix of determination,
Uncertainty,
And sadness.
A longtime friend had offered her apartment while she traveled Spain for the winter.
And the thought of being alone,
Unseen,
Was a gift.
Privacy at last.
Space to breathe.
She'd always felt so comfortable in Molly's space.
She felt so relieved to have somewhere to go,
To find her sense of ground again.
When she arrived,
She opened the windows wide and let the silence settle around her.
For the first time in weeks,
No one was asking anything of her.
She could eat when she was hungry,
Sleep when her body needed rest,
And nurture the small heartbeat inside of her.
Her next exhale was so pronounced,
Every part of her felt it.
She had heard a knock softly at the door one evening.
Nico's eyes carried both hope and guilt.
He wanted to be near her,
To care for her,
To somehow lighten what she was left to carry on her own.
But at the same time,
He also wanted to fix what he'd broken with Nathan.
Every word he spoke seemed to be laced with this impossible tension.
With Nico here,
She felt her resolve to keep it together crumble.
They didn't rush to talk.
There was something sacred in their silence.
She moved to the kitchen,
And he followed.
He started to make her a cup of tea,
The way he always did.
When his hand brushed against hers,
Reaching for the cup,
Her pulse jumped.
That tiny touch carried more history than any conversation ever could.
The air between them filled with everything they weren't saying.
Later,
They sat by the open window.
He leaned close enough for their shoulders to touch,
Close enough to remind her she wasn't alone.
He didn't ask for her,
Didn't suggest anything.
He just asked if she was sleeping,
If she was eating,
Ordinary questions.
And he asked with such care that her chest ached.
She started telling him things that she hadn't dared say out loud.
That fear was living under her ribs.
That her life felt like it collapsed in on itself.
And he listened.
Really listened.
Not like a man trying to fix her,
But like a man who refused to look away from her pain.
That was always the thing about Nico.
He never flinched.
He stayed in this solid,
Present way that was irresistible to her.
In the privacy of the space,
With winter air drifting in,
She leaned into him.
Not out of passion,
More out of relief.
Relief at being seen,
At being invited to feel and be held in silent,
Strong support.
Nico quietly made her some homemade soup with the chicken and vegetables in the fridge while she napped.
He tucked out,
Leaving a simple note to enjoy the soup with his familiar signature,
Love,
Nico.
With each nourishing bite of soup,
She couldn't help but reflect that she wasn't surprised that Nathan had gone quiet.
He hadn't called.
He hadn't come by.
She understood,
Of course,
But still wasn't surprised by the silence.
Intentionally letting the soup's warmth spread through her body,
Softening the edges of any loneliness she felt.
Nathan's silence still pressed against her ribs like a bruise,
But for the first time she wondered if his absence wasn't just about her.
Maybe it included the weight he carried since being a young boy.
The fury of his father.
The sorrow of his mother.
All the places he'd been taught to avoid painful conversations.
She knew keeping things light,
Fun,
And full of adventure was his strategy to keep the pain at bay.
She knew the scars Nathan carried,
Growing up feeling helpless against his father's violence,
Useless in soothing his mother's pain.
Now he faced the same depth of pain.
He was unable to the woman he loved what she needed most.
This baby would be living,
Breathing proof of what Nico could give her,
But he couldn't.
She pulled herself back from the future to feel more settled in the present moment.
It was such a huge consideration how the family secret seemed to be replaying itself.
The pattern they were all caught up in,
Looking different on the outside,
The same painful themes playing out again.
She knew a relationship with Nathan would mean accepting the things he couldn't give,
But as the steam rose from the bowl of soup,
Something loosened inside of her.
A small space opened where only ache had lived before.
An unexpected tenderness,
Quiet as breath,
That made her fears diminish,
That she'd find a way to talk to Nathan,
With the words they'd both been too afraid to say,
The truths that had sat between them like shadows,
The things neither of them had dared to mention,
But had both carried all along.
In this moment of calm,
A feeling began to take root,
That she could do this,
Raise her baby,
However different it might look from what she expected.
She took this feeling into sleep with her,
As if it could grow roots to offer strength in the weeks and months to come.
