They had dinner first, talked about their days, laughed at stupid jokes. And when they went upstairs, it felt less like an obligation and more like a choice they were making together. But each month ended the same way, a negative test, a quiet phone call, a shared disappointment that neither of them knew how to articulate.
By the fourth month, the weight of it was starting to show. Vivian became quieter, more withdrawn. She still came to Adrian’s house, still spent time with Eli, but there was a distance in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. And Adrian could feel his own hope starting to fray at the edges, the what-ifs creeping in late at night when he couldn’t sleep.
One evening, after another failed attempt, they sat together on Adrian’s porch, watching the sunset over the neighborhood. Eli was inside watching a movie, and the world felt heavy and still. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” Vivian said quietly. Adrian looked at her. “What are you saying?” “I’m saying I’m tired.
I’m tired of hoping and failing. I’m tired of feeling like my body is broken. I’m just tired.” “We can stop.” “If that’s what you want.” “I don’t know what I want.” She wrapped her arms around herself, and Adrian saw the cracks forming in the armor she’d built. “I thought I was strong enough for this, but every month that goes by, every negative test, it just feels like the universe is telling me I don’t deserve this.
” “That’s not true.” “Isn’t it? I already had a child. I already had a family. Maybe I don’t get to have it twice.” Adrian reached out and took her hand. “Hey.” “Look at me.” She turned, and her eyes were wet with unshed tears. “You deserve this.” Adrian said firmly. “You deserve to be happy.
You deserve to be a mother again. And if it doesn’t happen, it’s not because you did something wrong or because you’re being punished. Sometimes life is just cruel and random and unfair. I know that. I do. But it doesn’t make it hurt less. No, it doesn’t. He squeezed her hand. But we’re in this together. And if you want to keep trying, we keep trying.
And if you want to stop, we stop. But whatever we do, we do it together. Vivian wiped at her eyes with her free hand. I don’t want to stop. I just I need to know it’s going to be okay if it doesn’t work. It will be. I promise. She looked at him for a long moment, searching his face. Then she nodded. Okay. They tried again the next month and the next.
And slowly, painfully, Adrian started to realize that something had shifted between them. They weren’t just two people trying to have a child anymore. They were something else, something deeper, more complicated. They’d become each other’s anchor, the person they turned to when the weight became too much to carry alone.
And somewhere in the middle of all the hoping and failing, Adrian had fallen in love with her. He didn’t know when it happened. Maybe it was the night she’d shown up at his door in the rain. Maybe it was the first time she’d made Eli laugh. Maybe it was the hundredth conversation they’d had about grief and loss and the terrible courage it took to keep living.
He didn’t know. All he knew was that when he looked at her now, he didn’t just see a partner in this impossible arrangement. He saw someone he wanted to protect, to comfort, to wake up beside every morning. And that terrified him because this wasn’t supposed to be about love. It was supposed to be about creating a child, building a family, healing old wounds.
Love complicated everything. It made the stakes higher, the risks greater. It turned a manageable arrangement into something that could destroy them both if it fell apart. He didn’t tell her. He couldn’t. Not when she was already carrying so much weight, so much fear. So he kept it to himself and tried to pretend that nothing had changed.
But Eli noticed. One night after Vivian had gone home, Eli climbed into Adrian’s lap and looked up at him with those two wise eyes. Dad? He said. Do you like Vivian? Adrian’s heart skipped. Of course I like her. She’s our friend. No, I mean, do you like like her? Where did you hear that phrase? School. Eli shrugged.
Some of the kids talk about their parents dating. Are you and Vivian dating? Adrian took a breath. He’d been dreading this conversation, but he should have known it was coming. Eli was too smart to miss what was happening right in front of him. It’s complicated, he said finally. That’s what adults say when they don’t want to explain.
Okay, fair point. Adrian shifted Eli in his lap so they were facing each other. Vivian and I are trying to have a baby together. A brother or sister for you. Eli’s eyes widened. Really? Yeah, but it’s taking a while and it might not happen, so we’re not telling people yet. But if it does happen, will Vivian be my mom? No.
Your mom will always be your mom. Vivian would be um He paused, searching for the right word. She’d be family, someone who cares about you, someone who’s part of our lives. Eli thought about this for a moment. Would she live here? I don’t know yet. We haven’t figured all that out. I think she should live here.
