offshore | h.s

44

GENEVIEVE CLARK

As I lay in bed, the urge to pee tugging at me, I felt exhausted yet unable to drift off into much-needed sleep.

Today had been completely overwhelming – we had made the big reveal phone calls – starting with Anne, then my mother, followed by telling Gemma and Michal getting the news when they got home. It couldn't have gone better. I swear I could hear Anne's tears of joy down the phone.

It was an emotional rollercoaster of a day - amid joyous tears and laughter, Harry dropped another bombshell – he would be flying out to LA on Monday for tour business that could not be delayed. I am so proud of him, but now, with this new baby announcement, his absence couldn't have come at a worse time.

I check my phone to see it's the cruel hour of 1 a.m. I untangle myself from the mess of bedsheets, my pregnant belly pleading with me to get up and use the bathroom. With a heavy sigh, I succumb to its demands.

As I slip out of our cozy bed and walk down the hall, the chilly bathroom tiles greet my feet, sending a shiver up my spine. The quiet of the night envelopes the house, making my steps feel loud and intrusive. I close the bathroom door softly behind me, not wanting to wake anyone, who's resting peacefully after our big news.

With a sigh of relief, I reach my destination and the urge to pee overcomes me. The bathroom light flickers to life, revealing a familiar space where I've had countless nighttime rendezvous with my bladder.

I relieve myself, and as I'm washing my hands, the soft hum of silence is broken by the murmur of voices, growing ever so slightly in volume. My heart catches in my chest, and I pause, listening intently.

It's coming from Amber and James's room, down the hallway. The hushed tones are unmistakable, even though I can't make out the words. At first, it's easy to dismiss it as a casual conversation between a loving couple.

Then the tone shifts.

Amber's voice trembles and James's deeper tones become firmer, more insistent. The words become audible, and it's clear that this is no ordinary discussion; it's an argument.

My steps hesitate, and I lean closer, straining to hear more clearly. My hands are still wet, and I clutch a towel, forgotten mid-drying. Their voices rise, and it's not just the words but the emotions behind them that seep through the cracks.

I could turn back, pretend I heard nothing, go to bed and let them sort it out. But the worry gnaws at me, refusing to let go. I can't ignore it any longer, not when it's my friends' turmoil echoing down the hallway.

As I stand there, torn between intervening and not, I realize I can't simply go back to bed now. I know that I have to make a choice, one that will undoubtedly affect the dynamics of our little household.

Before I can muster the strength to make a decision, the bedroom door bursts open, and there she is – dishevelled and red-eyed, carrying the burden of heartache.

As her eyes lock onto mine, I see the pain etched across her face, and I become a refuge, offering solace in the form of a warm hug. She clings to it as if it's the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

We hold each other with an intensity that only a storm of emotions can bring. Her body quivers with a mix of vulnerability and sorrow, and it stirs a deep ache within me. Her voice quivers as she confides, "Gen, I don't think I want to get married."

The words hang heavily in the air, like a cloud of despair. The room seems to darken as the weight of Amber's distress settles in. I can't help but share in her heartache, and I know that whatever course of action I had been contemplating earlier, tonight won't be simple for any of us.