𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐖𝐞 𝐆𝐨 (𝐮𝐡 𝐨𝐡)

24. Bond

Kimoni

It was one of those mornings where im trying to push myself out of bed before I'm ready. I'm lying there, staring at the tv, feeling that old familiar tightness in my chest. Ray's knocked out next to me, snoring softly. The man can sleep through anything, I swear. But me? I haven't had a good night's sleep in months. It's like I'm always half-awake, half-waiting for something to go wrong.

The baby monitor on the nightstand crackles to life, and I hear Joelle start to stir. My first instinct is to turn it off, pretend I didn't hear it, but the guilt hits me just as quick. That's my baby girl in there, my little Joelle, and here I am feeling like I can't even be around her unless I absolutely have to. It's messed up, I know that. But knowing it doesn't make it easier to shake this feeling.

Ray starts to move, probably waking up to Joelle's cries too. I close my eyes, hoping he'll handle it. I know he will. He's been holding it down for months, taking care of Joelle like a pro while I've been... distant. Distant isn't even the right word. I've been straight-up avoiding her, except for when I feed her. I do that much, at least. But even then, as soon as she's done, I hand her back to Ray or put her down and retreat back to my own space.

Ray turns over and gives me that look. Not judgmental, just concerned. He doesn't say anything, though. He just gets up, kisses my forehead, and heads to Joelle's room. That's how he's been lately-patient, understanding, trying to give me space without making me feel like a failure.

I lay there, listening to him talking to Joelle through the baby monitor. His voice is soft, soothing, and she quiets down almost instantly. I feel a pang of something-jealousy, maybe? Or maybe it's just the realization that I'm missing out on moments like this, moments I can't get back.

"Morning, baby girl," I hear him say. "You ready to see Mommy today? She's gonna hang out with us, alright?"

I don't know where he gets this faith in me from, but it's like he's convinced that I'm just gonna wake up one day and be back to my old self. The truth is, I'm not even sure who that is anymore.

Finally, I drag myself out of bed and throw on one of Ray's old t-shirts and some sweatpants. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I pass by, and I barely recognize the woman staring back at me. Dark circles under my eyes, hair a mess, and that tired, haunted look that's become all too familiar.

When I walk into Joelle's room, Ray's got her in his arms, bouncing her gently as he hums some random tune. He looks up when I come in, a small smile on his lips.

"Hey," he says, like it's the most normal thing in the world to see me in here.

"Hey," I reply, trying to muster up a smile of my own, but it probably looks as fake as it feels.

"You wanna hold her?" he asks, holding Joelle out to me. She looks at me with those big hazel eyes, so innocent, so trusting. It breaks my heart to think about how much I've been pulling away from her.

I hesitate for a second, but then I reach out and take her into my arms. She's so small, so delicate, and for a moment, I'm terrified that I'll hurt her somehow. But she just snuggles against my chest, and I feel this overwhelming rush of emotion-love, fear, guilt, all mixed together.

"She's perfect," Ray says, watching us with that proud dad smile.

"Yeah, she is," I whisper, trying to focus on the way she feels in my arms, the way her little fingers curl around the fabric of my shirt.

Ray steps back, giving me space, but he doesn't leave. I can tell he's watching us closely, probably trying to gauge how I'm feeling, if I'm gonna panic and hand her back like I usually do.