ʜᴇʀ ᴀꜱꜱɪꜱᴛᴀɴᴛ | ᴛᴀʀᴀꜱɪᴀ

ꜱɪxᴛʏ ᴇɪɢʜᴛ

ᴛᴀʀᴀᴊɪ ʜᴇɴꜱᴏɴ
ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍʙᴇʀ 21, 2020

the house was way too quiet. not regular quiet... hollow quiet. the kind where every sound echoes like it's reminding you you're alone.

i stood in the middle of the living room with the last lamp on, arms crossed tight, staring at the front door like i could will it to open. like she'd just walk back in muttering something about forgetting her charger or laila's reindeer, but it stayed closed.

i dragged both hands over my face and sat on the couch, the cushion dipping too light without tasia on the other side. the laptop was still open where i left it—custody laws, rehab timelines, visitation guidelines. i read everything three times but every answer looked the same:

if raegan stays clean long enough... she could have a case.

my stomach twisted again, that same punch of fear that had been sitting there since the grocery store when she stepped in front of my cart and said "i want my daughter back" like she left her at daycare, not abandoned her.

thinking about it made my chest burn. i shut the laptop so hard it snapped.

i didn't mean to shut fantasia out. i didn't mean to make her feel alone. i was just... scared. terrified. the kind of terrified that grabs you by the throat and makes you want to fix everything quietly before it becomes real. protect them first, explain later. that's how i was built. survival never came with instructions for partnership.

i leaned forward, elbows on my knees, palms over my mouth. "damn it..." my voice cracked.

my phone buzzed on the table.

i snatched it fast, hoping it was her. tasia was calling. my heart jumped. i answered on the first ring.

"baby? hello—"

she hung up. i stared down at the screen as another call came through... and ended again. she wasn't gonna talk to me. not tonight. and that?... that was deserved.

not because i didn't adore her but because i didn't show it the way she needed. not today. not yesterday. not when she was carrying our baby and feeling everything ten times heavier than i was.

my throat tightened and i got up, pacing.

"i'm sorry, mama," i whispered to the empty room, wishing she could hear it. "i'm so sorry..."

my eyes landed on laila's little sneakers by the mat. tiny, glittery, pink. she kicked them off every day the second she walked in. i picked them up slowly, thumb brushing over the velcro strap.

i pictured her at tab's—probably already asleep, mouth open, knocked out with that reindeer tucked under her arm. i hoped she didn't ask for me. i hoped she didn't feel the shift. she deserved peace even if i didn't.

i took her shoes to her room and set them in the closet like she liked—lining them up perfectly just like she'd seen me do with mine. her room was too still too. her night-light wasn't humming, her tablet wasn't glowing, her little hum she always did before falling asleep wasn't there.

i sat on her bed, hand over my mouth again as the quiet pressed in.

"i'm trying, bean," i whispered, voice breaking. "i'm trying so hard."

i lay back against her pillows for a second, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling. i put those up with her on my shoulders, tasia laughing at us from the doorway. that night felt like forever ago.

i shut my eyes because they were starting to sting.

and then... my phone buzzed again.

Tab: She's safe. Laila's safe. Go to sleep.

i blew out a breath and typed back.

: Kiss all the three of them for me.

tab read it instantly but didn't respond. that was her way of saying sleep on it, dumbass.

i rubbed my eyes with the heel of my hand, stood up, and went back to the room. the bed looked wrong without tasia on her side. her pillow was fluffed, blankets messy how she left it before she found me everywhere but beside her. the scent of her lotion was faint on the sheets. it made my eyes close just to breathe it in.

i crawled onto her side, pulling her pillow into my chest like i was starved for it. maybe i was. i'd been starved before—for comfort, for safety, for love—but i didn't realize how full she'd made me until the second she walked out.

her absence hurt. physically.

my voice cracked into the empty room. "i'm gonna fix this, baby... i promise."

i pressed my forehead into the pillow and let my chest shake for a few seconds—quiet, the way you cry when you teach yourself not to make noise.

eventually, i turned on my side, hand over the spot where her belly would've been, where the baby would've been beneath my palm. i rubbed slow circles like i always did, even though she wasn't here.

"goodnight, little one," i whispered. "i'm gonna do better for you too."

the house hummed low around me.

i fell asleep with her pillow under my cheek, my hand resting exactly where hers would've slid over mine, hoping morning came fast because i knew the first thing i was gonna do was go get my family back.