I've been staring at the ceiling for longer than it's probably reasonable. Well aware of the movement and voices in the house, I consciously decided to stay as silent as I could so everyone would assume I was still sleeping. That was a little over an hour ago, but I figured I was allowed to have a morning for myself, alone, in silence and full contemplation. Never thought it could be as heartrending as it has been. Today is one of those mornings where I wish everything was just a bad dream.

You know that feeling you get when you submerge your whole body underwater in a deep pool or even in the sea? How you feel the air slowly running out, how you have an impulse of reaching the surface fast but it never seems fast enough as if a strange force keeps pulling you down and the noises from the exterior are almost inaudible, all you can hear are your own thoughts. That's how I've been feeling for the past five days.  It's been five days of us being guests at Amy and Kit's. Five long, tough and untimely days. 

As I gather the will to finally get up I see the bedroom door slowly opening and hear soft steps hitting the wooden floor. I can catch sight of a disheveled blonde head, that barely sticks out from the mattress level, approaching my side of the bed at a cautious pace. He's still wearing his batman pajamas, his swollen eyes giving away that he hasn't been awake for long and his lips in a deep pout announcing he's here to make a claim.

"Auntie Livie," the little boy whines in a high pitched tone as soon as he discovers my eyes are open, "Archie won't let me play with his cars!"

Even in my gloomy state, I grin and brush my fingers through his hair, "Really?!" I enquire in a mock-dramatic manner, "I'll talk to that boy immediately," I assure and his pout turns into a satisfied smile. 

"What are you doing here James?!" Amy mutters in between teeth suddenly breaking our secret conversation, "What have I told you about waking Aunt Liv?!"

"But Mommy, Archie-" he fails to explain before Amy cuts him off.

"I don't care, you go back downstairs right now," she states firmly and in a matter of seconds Jamie is out of the room, "Sorry, Liv!"

"It's alright, I should get up anyway..." I say with the hint of a smile. A fake smile that I'm sure Amy is not buying but plays along and winks her right eye back at me before leaving the bedroom after her youngest son.

I rest my head firmly on the pillow one last time, squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head -as if I could shake my problems- before jumping out of bed in one move. I approach the bedroom vanity and carelessly brush my hair in front of the mirror avoiding taking any sight of my less than impressive reflection. The skin in my hands feels extremely dry as I tie my nightgown, so I grab a moisturizer from the nightstand and softly spread it on my hands. It's in that casual action that I see it, I trace it with fear and feel the tears pooling in my eyes. This ring that once lightened my existence now seems to be burning my flesh leaving it red raw and untouchable. I doubt for the millionth time in the past days if I should just take it off, but yet again I fail at doing it.

I head downstairs fast, after closing the bedroom door, trying to leave my thoughts inside of it. Walking past the play area I see the boys in peace; Noah watching some cartoon on the TV and Jamie and Archie playing with the infamous cars that were bringing conflict minutes ago, kids solve things much faster and easier than adults. I decide not to interrupt the - probably brief- calm that's reigning in there and head to the kitchen to find Amy.

"Did you sleep well?" Amy asks while offering me a cup of coffee I need desperately.

I nod and take a sip while taking a seat on the dining table, "As good as I can," I confess.

She sits beside me and looks at me with clear concern in her eyes, "I know you don't want to tell me what happened," she says before grabbing my hand. 

I shake my head and look down; I still can't get a grasp of the latest events, and I certainly can't even say the words to confess it to anyone.

She nods, "It's okay, and with Kit we are happy to have you two here for as long as you wish but-" she stops sharply, looks behind me and smiles.

I turn around and see Archie rubbing his eyes and walking toward me -still sleepy and cuddly as he is every morning- and he silently asks me to sit on my lap as soon as he reaches my side. I oblige and my heart melts when he rests his head on my chest and presses himself as tight to me as he can.

"Mummy," he murmurs, slowly being lulled in my arms as I caress his back and softly kiss his forehead. I look at Amy and suddenly understand exactly what she was trying to say. I can't control my tears anymore.

Decisions. Choices. I need to make one and this is the side of adulthood I like the least. 

Because, honestly, who has the recipe to know when it's wise to fully let go or to keep trying harder?

Spring/Autumn 2021
3 years before

I carefully watched the wiggling of my toes, or at least the small portion I could still see of them propped on Henry's lap. I shut my eyes alternating right from left in a loop; I always felt that was our very own embodied camera direction of life.

"I'm days away from being unable to look at my feet," I said absentmindedly while slowly tracing my fingers along my five months bump.

Henry looked at me, a warm smile tilted across his face as he placed his book on the bench we were on, "I'll look at them for you," he said gently grabbing and squeezing my feet.

That teak wooden bench is my favorite spot in our backyard and, even when it's rather chilly outside and as long as it's not raining, I always like to spend a couple of hours before it's dark there. During those months we grew fond of that unspoken routine where I made us both a cup of tea, Henry took a book - sometimes a novel, many times poetry and a handful of times a nonfiction story- he sat down and I lied with my head or feet on his lap listening as he patiently read to me. It slowly became a treasured part of my day and, when I was pregnant, having our baby listen to his dad for a couple of hours a day seemed like a perfect plan.

He gently placed his hand on my stomach and I intertwined my fingers with his, "Will you give me foot massages?" I asked.

"Of course!" He assured.

"Good, I think I'll need them," I said nodding as he bent to kiss my hand before letting go of it and grabbing his book again,I gasped silently at the sudden loss of contact, my skin cold without his touch,"and will you run me baths with candles, bath bombs and stuff?" I asked, adjusting the pillow under my head.

"Sure, baby," he nodded, eyebrows furrowed and his full attention back on his book.

"And will you do the dishes every night?" I finally asked, taking advantage of his sudden distraction and concealing a menacing laughter.The rays of sun were creeping through the clouds and gently resting on his face giving him an ethereal glow, his eyes like a kaleidoscope reflecting the shades of green and blue in them, the stubble he proudly grew during those laid back days almost translucid against the light and his lips glistening as he slowly traced his tongue on them. I couldn't think of any other person I knew that could be so stunning effortlessly.

He suddenly raised his head from his book again and looked at me laughing as he exclaimed,"Okay, now you are pushing it!"

I broke into a high-pitched laughter feeling almost instantly how the baby moved inside me. I grabbed my belly instinctively letting my hands follow the motion and enjoyed every second of it; that past couple of weeks the movements had become more apparent and I was overwhelmed by it, leaving everything I was doing to let myself enjoy every second of that feeling of bonding with my son. I was in love with my baby from the second I knew he was growing inside, we were connected in a unique way, a way nobody else could possibly share.

"Are you okay?" I suddenly realized Henry had left her book and had straightened on his seat looking worriedly at me.

"The baby is moving," I said with a grin and eyes filled with happy tears, I knew he could barely feel him, but he still placed his hand on my bump firmly every time. The determination he had towards bonding with our baby was endearing.

"The baby likes to hear you laughing, we both do," he murmured visibly affected.

"I've been thinking of names," I mumbled cautiously, at that point we were a week away from my next ultrasound in which we expected to find out the baby's gender. We talked about many names but couldn't seem to agree on anyone.

He nodded, "Me too, you first."

I slowly propped myself and sat down beside him,"Okay, I was thinking that if it's a girl I want her to be named Jillian, like Jill," I said looking at him nervously, it was extremely important to me to be able to honor my friend by giving her name to my first daughter.

He cupped my face in his hands before assuring,"I love it, we have a winner."

I cuddled on his side with his left arm tight around me, "Your turn,"I said raising my chin eyes to lock them with him.

He softly pinched his lower lip, "Okay, since the girl name is out of the table...I thought Charles if it's a boy," he said looking down at me in expectation.

I pursed my lips and twisted my face in disapproval without saying a word, "Good, you don't like it," he nodded chuckling and added, "how about Arthur? We can call him Archie..."

"Arthur Greenberg," I whispered and something suddenly fit perfectly, "like it, he has a good name for a writer."

"He does! We are giving our little one a name and a career, we're already smashing this parenting game, love," he chortled before placing a kiss on the tip of my nose.

Thinking about names seemed dreamlike; the first couple of months of my pregnancy I could only call the baby 'Unreal', because that was exactly the way it felt.

I never really thought about having babies before, I was focused on other things and being a mom wasn't something that kept me awake at night. That was until I met Henry, or until I marry him more like. I wanted us to transcend, to share an unbreakable bond, to make something out of this love that could prove how strong and wonderful it was. How perfect. Henry loves kids and talked about having them almost from the beginning, just by looking at him you could tell he was going to be a great dad.

We got married six months after getting engaged -which seemed a tad rush for many- but like Harry from When Harry met Sally said, 'When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible'. So, with the help of an army of England's most discreet wedding planners, we rented a castle in Leeds, invited 150 of our closest friends and family to stay the night and celebrated a weekend long intimate dream wedding. We ate, drank, danced, laughed until we cried and toasted countless times for the love and happiness we wanted to share forever. We left the venue with a smile on our faces, an utter feeling of content and unexplainable rush to become parents as soon as possible.

Being 35 years old I was concerned about my biological clock seriously ticking, so I went straight to my gynecologist to figure out what to do. She calmed me down, claiming I was still young and my age shouldn't be a concern for getting pregnant, asked both Henry and me to run a few tests and gave me a couple of vitamins to start taking. Our tests came out normal, so we bought the vitamins, ovulation sticks and took care of business immediately.

At first, it was fun, we were having a lot of sex which wasn't something we could complain about and trying new poses that were supposed to help. It was mainly carefree enjoyment, until 4 months passed by without me getting pregnant, and I started to get concerned even though I shouldn't. Everything else was going so well that I felt the pressure of bringing a baby to our story, becoming slightly obsessed in the process and dragging Henry along with me. Sex became planned and nearly an obligation.

During that period I went to a small town New Mexico to film the third and last season of a Netflix series I starred in and brought Henry with me. I made Nick and his son Alex, who was managing most of my career, to made sure I had a private motorhome just in case -in between takes- I ovulated and need to try once more. My husband waited patiently, almost as some kind of stallion waiting for copulation.

I didn't see how much it was affecting him until we went back home. One morning I woke up alone in bed and went downstairs to find him sitting alone in the kitchen, an envelope was on top of the table and his expression a mix of concern and sadness. As soon as he saw me, he beckoned me to sit on his lap; he held me tight and kissed my temple time and time again while begging me to take a break from trying to get pregnant and go back to enjoying life. He said that we still had time, that we only tried for nine months and it was still completely normal for it to not happen, that we should take a couple of weeks off and handed me the envelope with two plane tickets to Greece. Little did he know his words were freeing me from the pressure I had inflicted myself of during all of those months, feeling like I was mainly failing on him.

We spent almost a month in Greece. A month where we reconnected with each other, where we lay in the sun forgetting about everything that had been haunting us, where we made love like we were used to: unhurriedly, passionately and without further planning. We returned home with a renewed spirit and hopes...and also with what seemed like a stomach bug.

The second we landed back in England I started throwing up and, after a couple of days of feeling absolutely horrible, the doctors determined I had some type of flu I had probably brought from abroad. I spent almost a week in bed feeling miserable before Amy started suggesting I was pregnant. I insisted it was impossible and, after a couple of days of clearly not following her directions, she drove for three hours and showed up with her seven months pregnant belly at my front door.

"Go to the bathroom and pee on this," she demanded, handing me a Boots' bag.

"Good afternoon to you too," I said in a raspy voice and beckoned her to follow me back upstairs where I fell back in bed, "You shouldn't be here when I'm sick and you're pregnant," I stated with my head pressed to my pillow.

"You're not sick, you're more pregnant than I am, Olivia," she assured, "now get up and pee on this," she waved a pink pregnancy test before my eyes.

"I don't want to...it's pointless, Ames," I muttered.

"Oh! God sorry, did something in my intonation lead you to believe this was a suggestion? My bad! It wasn't, now get your ass out of that bed and pee on this stick," her tone was probably the most motherly I ever heard from her.

I rolled my eyes heavily and huffing I tore the test from her hand and obliged to her command. I sat on the toilet, pee on the stick - a procedure I had become very familiar with those past months-, and crawled back under the covers leaving the test on the counter.

Amy rushed to the bathroom and the look she had on her face when she walked back inside the bedroom jolted a rush of electric across my whole body. Her face damped with tears, a hand pressed on her mouth, the pregnancy test shaking in her hand and for the first time since I met her she was out of words.

I was pregnant.

The rollercoaster of feelings that came afterward is hard to explain. I felt everything from excitement, to fear, to the sadness of knowing my mom wasn't going to be there to meet my baby, to an indescribable sense of happiness and overall what won over everything was peace. My pregnancy was filled with joyfulness and peace. Henry had a lot to do with it, making sure nothing stressed me and taking care of every detail to leave me free to only enjoy; he was amazing but the calm I felt came solely from the life that was growing inside me, the bond we shared and the purest form of love I had ever felt.

A love that became tangible the first minute I laid eyes on him. After 8 hours of labor - painful and extenuating labor- in a cold Labor Room, feeling sweaty, tired and sore, I saw him. Big eyes wandering around confused, jerking and trembling uncomfortable in Henry's hands and his mouth opened wide to make sure all of us heard his fuming crying. He was perfect, exactly how I dreamed he would be and I almost stripped him from his father's proud arms, because I needed him as much as he needed me.

My whole life made sense at that second, my entire existence had a purpose when Archie was finally in my arms. He quivered, twitched and sobbed for a little longer as I held him close to me, like giving me his complaints about this world I had brought him in. But when his head rested on my chest, his little hand wrapped tightly around my index finger and his whimpers slowly soothe down as he heard the rhythm of my heart, I had no doubt. For him, I had suddenly become invincible.

April 2024

Present

"And then, the robot's head breaks and falls to the floor!" Noah explains the movie he saw earlier today in the most passionate way possible; gesticulating, reenacting and stressing every single word, "It was so bloody awesome!"

He speaks in an endearing British accent with a perfect mix of both British and American terms he uses randomly, like a brilliant combination of both Amy and Kit. I wonder if Archie will be like that, mixing Spanish, English, accents and slangs carelessly. So far he's mainly a proper English toddler that occasionally says 'si' instead of 'yes' - not that he speaks much yet- but I hold my hopes high.

"Language, Noah!" Amy yells over the sound of the water steadily hitting the sink, it's impressive how aware of everything her two kids do she is, even when she's completely focused on something else.

His eyes widen and he suppresses his giggles pressing his lips tightly while looking at me in mutual understanding. I cover my mouth with my hand and joyfully follow his game; I have to be responsible for Archie's education and manners but with Noah and Jamie I get to be their fun Auntie Livie and I love every second of it.

Noah runs to his room with the clear task of finding his report card and bring it back to me so I can be shocked by his remarkable performance at school. Almost immediately Jamie starts whining because he also wants a report card and, even after Amy explains he won't get one until he starts school, he keeps on insisting. I try to ease his frustration by promising him school is really boring, but he doesn't seem convinced. Sitting on a high chair that once belonged to Jamie, Archie watches the scene silently sipping juice from his training cup; not having brothers or sisters definitely gives him a more laid back spirit.

"Remember when our biggest drama was which bar we were going to? Lena always insisting on that yuppie place downtown?" I whisper to Amy walking past her as Jamie leaves the kitchen looking for his older brother.

She cackles loudly before exclaiming, "Those were the days, girl!"

I laugh as I grab a dishcloth to wipe the remainings of Archie's lunch from the high chair tray; he babbles about the red car he's holding as I tidy up everything while following his few words with attention and mock-surprise. He has an overwhelming obsession with cars that probably has to do with the fact that his dad has a dozen of real automobiles scattered across the world; the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree I guess.

Looking at Archie is almost like looking at a picture of Henry when he was his age; hazelnut hair, almond shaped eyes, pouty lips and an almost permanent smile. The only thing that says that he's my son - despite the 9 months he spent growing inside me - are his bright blue eyes, identical to mine.

I sit on the chair beside him taking advantage of this spontaneous moment of calm, more similar to the peaceful days back home we are both used to. I'm following his words carefully when the doorbell rings, my eyes travel to the kitchen's clock and my heart tightens. Two in the afternoon has never been an issue for me, just a random place where the hour hands settle once a day...or twice. But the past five days, two in the afternoon has been hell.

Amy stiffens in her standing point and looks at me over her shoulder, "I'm gonna-" I say before she cuts me off.

"Yes, yes," she assures nodding in a million short head movements.

I cup Archie's face and kiss him all over his cheeks, forehead, the top of his head and hug him tightly before running upstairs. I feel like a fugitive, like a criminal, like the shadow of the self-assured woman I once was. I feel like everything I am not, but I can't help it.

I stop sharply at the landing of the stairs, slowly pressing my back to the wall to avoid being seen. I hear how Amy walks to the front door with Archie, how the door opens and my heart tightens as my son squeals in joy. The sound that comes next is what scares me the most because it's the voice I've been trying to run from all of this days; the voice that once calmed me, that gave me certainty, that one time gave me home but is now only wreaking havoc in my heart. This is the hour where punctually every single day for the past five Henry arrives to pick up Archie but is also my new daily nightmare

I wish I could silence the world in order to hear more. To hear everything. I can make that he's walking inside the house, picking up Archie, asking about me, I hear Amy lying as she tells him I'm resting - I know him too well to know he doesn't buy a word of it but still answers politely-, and next thing I catch is them saying goodbye and leaving. I'm always left wondering what they are doing, where they are going and deep inside wishing I could be there with them like I did before.

"It's safe!" Amy startles me with a yell.

I poke my head and give her the best smile I can pull when I find her standing looking straight up at me, "Thanks," I murmur.

"Come on, Kit is about to take the kids outside too, God bless him," she says as I slowly walk back downstairs, "and you know what that means, right?"

"Girls afternoon in?" I whisper as she circles her right arm over my shoulders bringing me closer, I'm not sure if she knows it but it is all I need right now.

"You bet!" She exclaims.

We spend the next few hours watching movies, eating snacks, drinking cocktails and laughing. It's her desperate attempt to distract me and for a split second, I can assure she succeeds. I wonder what I would do without her, ever since I moved to England we became much closer, so much she has grown essential in my life.

I'm stuffing my mouth with a handful of popcorn when I catch her staring at me, eyes filled with concern, "Amy..." I say as soon as I can swallow, reading her intentions.

She shakes her head and chuckles, "I'm not gonna ask," she assures, "but I will eventually want to know, Liv."

"I know, I just...I need time to process it," what happened tore everything apart, I just can't put it in words and I know this gives everyone more to worry about but I just can't help it.

"Of course, I just need to know because I feel I can't help you," she confesses.

Tears gather in my eyes as I murmur, "You're helping me more than you know."

She pulls me into a hug, "I just need to know if I'm allowed to chop Henry's balls off or not," she says against my hair with such seriousness it can only make me chuckle.

Is in that moment of complete bonding, of utter connection with my friend that I stop being alert, that I let go; and is that sudden calm what sets my own trap. Because I don't hear it until it's too late, until the voices are so close that even standing up is not an option. Because the second I hear Henry and Kit talking and walking toward the living room it's too late to run and hide. So I do the next best thing and freeze.

I'm like a deer caught in the headlights when Kit finds us sitting there, his eyes traveling from Amy to Henry, to finally landing on me. I think I see him mouthing 'sorry', but it's possible it's only my mind playing games on me. I don't want to look at Henry, I'm scared of what might happen but Amy stands up trying to look relaxed and says hi to him...and I see him. He's visibly uncomfortable, Archie in his arms and his eye locked with mine.

I raise from my seat and walk toward them, my legs wobble and my mouth is dry. I'm not sure if I can speak,"Hey," he whispers as I stand a few steps from them, I gulp loudly but don't make a sound.

"Mummyyyy," Archie cries out jerking his body, stretching his arms toward me and kicking his legs in a desperate way. He is having the usual reaction he has whenever he realizes he hadn't seen me for longer than five minutes; he can spend a whole day without me in absolute calm but the minute he sees me he loses it. He's pulling an almost full tantrum in the most inconvenient second. Kids.

If things weren't they way they are, Henry will probably call him a 'Mumma's boy', tease him for a little while and then mention something about how he can't blame him because he also likes me more than anyone else in the world and he certainly likes me more than he likes himself. My heart drops at the mere realization that none of those words will be pronounced today.

I approach them and as soon as I stretch my arms Archie jumps and wraps himself around me, his head resting on my shoulder as I place him over my left hip. Is in that casual movement that my elbow unintentionally grazes Henry's chest. It's a split second, almost a touch that's inexistent, but it wraps up my absolute worst fears. Because I feel it and I have the certainty that he is feeling it too; the world still pulling us together like magnets, so strongly that it takes me a couple of seconds to step back.

"Did you have a good time with Daddy?" I murmur while tracing my hand along his back, he only nods softly and buries his head on the crook of my neck. He's having an intense mommy moment and I've learned it's better to let him be.

Henry stands warily in front of me and it's then that I realized there are no signs of Amy or Kit, we were left conveniently alone, "How are you?" He asks.

"I'm good," I say swiftly.

"Liv I..." he starts, his hands slowly slipping inside the front pockets of his jeans. He looks bad. I mean, he still looks insanely handsome but tired, confused and - I hate to admit it- sad. Sadness seems like a very thin layer of fog that's covering both of us constantly, almost imperceptible, rather invisible but still there. Still hurting like hell.

"I don't want to talk about anything that isn't related to Archie," I assert firmly instead of following my instincts and hugging him, comforting him, kissing him and forgetting everything just to move back to who we were. My mouth has a brain of its own and I appreciate it more than ever. This is my husband but now he just feels like the guy who broke my heart.

He nods in one soft movement, looking at his feet briefly before clearing his throat, "I'd better be going," he says walking towards us, my heart pounding as the distance shortens, as our bodies slowly approach, "see you tomorrow Sir Archibald," he coos placing his hand on top of Archie's head, our son slowly turning to face him.

"Say goodbye to Daddy," I encourage him.

"Bye, Daddy," he mumbles softly and tightens his grip on me.

"Bye lad," Henry susurrates approaching to kiss Archie, his scent striking me; this is the closest we've been in what feels like forever.

I gasp as in a sudden movement Archie raises his body and circles his little arm around Henry's neck, leaving us extremely closer. I swear I can feel every drop of blood in my body slowly collecting in my heart making it impossibly tighter when we lock eyes, pulled together by our son. I can almost hear his heart and his breath caught in his throat. The tears pool in the back of my eyes, because I hate this, I hate every minute of this horrible situation we are in.

A sense of relief and profound despair takes over me when Archie finally lets go and goes back to claim me as his with both his arms around my neck. Henry traces his hand on our son's cheek before mumbling something I'm not capable of understanding and leaving.

He closes the door leaving us alone and, even when I can hear Amy and her family in the next room, this suddenly feels like how our life will be from now on. It strikes me like a ray in that second because I know as a certainty that nothing ever hurt this way before.