Hearts on Broadway (Book 2)

Chapter 4 - The Quiet Descent

The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that seemed to press down on Georgie from all sides. She sat in the living room, staring blankly at the open window, watching the gentle sway of the trees in the breeze. It was a beautiful day, the sun shining brightly across the fields, but the warmth and light didn't seem to reach her. All she could feel was the weight inside her, an oppressive heaviness that made it hard to breathe.

She hadn't moved in nearly an hour, her body rooted to the couch as if her limbs were made of lead. The TV was on, playing some mindless show she hadn't been paying attention to. The cheerful voices of the actors felt like noise, distant and disconnected from her reality.

This was becoming her norm—feeling detached from everything around her. There was a time when she'd wake up excited for the day, eager to get out of bed and see what the world had in store. Now, it was a struggle just to open her eyes. She told herself she was just tired, that all new mothers felt this way. But deep down, Georgie knew it was more than that.

She'd never felt this... numb.

She ran her hand over her face, feeling the roughness of her skin, the exhaustion that seemed etched into her bones. She used to find joy in the smallest things—Jackson's smile, the sound of Morgan singing softly in the kitchen, the warmth of the sun on her skin. Now, those moments felt distant, like memories from someone else's life.

A soft cry from the baby monitor jolted her from her thoughts. Jackson was awake, and she knew she should go to him, should hold him and soothe him. But she didn't move. Her body felt frozen, trapped in a fog that refused to lift.

A few moments later, she heard Morgan's footsteps coming down the hallway. He must have heard Jackson too. She watched as he entered the living room, his face lighting up with a soft smile when he saw her.

"Hey, babe," he said quietly, crossing the room to pick up the baby monitor from the coffee table. "I got him. You relax, okay?"

Georgie nodded, but she felt a pang of guilt. She should have been the one to get up. It was her job to take care of Jackson, wasn't it? But lately, it seemed like Morgan was the one doing most of the work. Every time Jackson cried, Morgan was there first, and she let him be. She told herself it was because he wanted to help, but the truth was, she just didn't have the energy.

Morgan disappeared into the nursery, and she heard his soft voice through the monitor, soothing Jackson back to sleep. Her chest tightened as the guilt deepened. She should be grateful. Morgan was an incredible father, always so patient and loving with their son. But instead of gratitude, all Georgie felt was failure. She wasn't doing enough—not for Jackson, not for Morgan, and certainly not for herself.

The more she thought about it, the worse it became. Jackson deserved better. Morgan deserved better. She had once been a confident, independent woman who knew how to handle anything life threw at her. Now, she was crumbling under the weight of her own inadequacies, and no one—not even Morgan—knew how bad it had gotten.

Her gaze flicked toward the window again. The sun was shining, and birds were chirping, but inside her mind, it felt like winter—cold, dark, and endless.

Later that afternoon, Georgie found herself sitting in the nursery, rocking back and forth in the chair while Jackson slept in his crib. She should have felt peace in this moment, the quiet lull of her son's gentle breathing filling the room. But instead, she felt a rising sense of panic, like something was slipping away from her, and she didn't know how to hold on.

She looked down at her hands, clenched tightly in her lap, and noticed how pale her knuckles had become. Her breath came in shallow bursts as she tried to calm herself, but the weight in her chest only grew heavier.