12. Trust Fractures
TRUST FRACTURES
I wake up to the soft glow of dawn filtering through the curtains, the sound of Liam’s gentle coos from the baby monitor breaking the silence of the early morning.
Stretching, I let out a heavy sigh, trying to shake the lingering sadness that settled over me last night.
The strain between Reid and me feels like an invisible weight pressing down on my chest, growing heavier with each passing day.
After feeding Liam and setting him down to play with his favorite stuffed animals, I grab my phone.
A quick scroll through emails and notifications is my usual routine, but today, a single post stops me cold.
My heart skips a beat as my thumb hovers over a photo that’s already racked up dozens of likes and comments. It’s Reid.
He’s standing at a party, a red solo cup in one hand, his other arm draped casually around the shoulders of a woman I don’t recognize.
She’s smiling up at him, her body angled close, the familiarity between them impossible to ignore.
The caption reads: Chill vibes with the best crew.
The photo is innocent enough on the surface, but it feels like a punch to the gut.
My chest tightens as I scroll through the comments.
“Looks like a good time!”
“Reid, you’re killing it at school, man!”
“She’s cute, bro—spill the tea!”
I grip the phone tighter, my pulse quickening with every word. The ambiguity gnaws at me. Who is she? What’s her relationship with Reid? And why didn’t he mention this party? My mind spirals into a storm of questions, each one more painful than the last.
“Amelia?” Hazel’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. I glance up to find her standing in the doorway, a concerned look etched on her face. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I lie, setting the phone down as casually as I can manage. “Just tired.”
Hazel raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. She walks over and sits on the edge of the couch, her gaze flicking between me and the phone.
“You’ve got that look, like you’re two seconds away from snapping. Spill it,” she says.
I hesitate, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my shirt.
“It’s Reid,” I admit finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “There’s this picture of him at a party…with some girl.”
Hazel’s face hardens as she reaches for my phone. “Let me see.”
I pass it to her, and she studies the image with a scrutinizing gaze.
“Okay,” she says carefully, handing it back. “It doesn’t look bad, Amelia. It’s a group setting. But I get why you’re upset. Did he even tell you about this party?”
I shake my head, swallowing the lump in my throat. “No. We barely talk as it is. And now this…”
Hazel places a comforting hand on my shoulder. “I get it. Long-distance is hard, and this…this doesn’t help. But you’ve got to talk to him, Amelia. You can’t let your mind fill in the blanks.”
I nod, but the tightness in my chest doesn’t ease. “What if there’s more to it?” I whisper. “What if he’s pulling away because he’s...found someone else?”
Hazel’s expression softens. “Amelia, Reid loves you. You’ve told me that yourself a million times. But you can’t keep holding this stuff inside. Talk to him. Tell him how you feel.”
Her words linger as I glance back at the photo, the image blurring as tears fill my eyes. I swipe them away quickly, not wanting Liam to see me cry. Hazel’s right—I need to talk to Reid. But the thought of confronting him, of hearing answers I might not be ready for, fills me with dread.
Hazel takes Liam to play, giving me some alone time to talk to Reid.
I pick up my phone, but hesitate. Reid’s number stares back at me from the screen, the weight of our unspoken issues hanging heavy between us.
My finger hovers over the call button, my heart pounding in my chest. Finally, I press it.
The phone rings twice before he picks up.
“Hey, Amelia,” Reid says, his voice sounding distant and preoccupied.
“Hey,” I reply, forcing a calmness I don’t feel. “How’s school?”
“It’s fine. Busy, as always,” he says. “What’s up?”
I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. “I saw a picture of you on social media today. At a party.”
There’s a brief pause on the other end, and I can hear the tension in his voice when he responds.
“Yeah, that was last weekend. Some friends from my dorm invited me. Why?” he says.
“I don’t know,” I say, my voice tightening despite my best efforts. “Maybe because you didn’t mention it. And there’s this girl in the picture?—”
“Amelia,” he interrupts, his tone sharper than I expect. “It was nothing. Just a party. She’s nobody.”
“She didn’t look like nobody,” I snap, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “You’ve been so distant lately, Reid. And then I see this picture, and?—”
“Do you even hear yourself?” he cuts in, his voice tinged with frustration. “I’m in college. I’m going to parties. That doesn’t mean I’m doing anything wrong.”
“It’s not just the picture, Reid!” I shout, my emotions boiling over. “It’s everything. You barely call. When you do, it’s rushed. You say you miss us, but it doesn’t feel like it. And then I see this, and it just…hurts.”
The silence on the other end is deafening. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and tired.
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Amelia. I’m trying. I’m doing the best I can,” he says.
“So am I,” I whisper, the fight draining out of me. “But it doesn’t feel like enough.”
“I need to get back to studying,” he says after a long pause. “We can talk later, okay?”
“Okay,” I reply, my voice breaking.
The line goes dead, and I sit there staring at the phone, the weight of our fractured connection pressing down on me. The familiar ache of loneliness settles in as I replay the conversation in my head. Somewhere between anger and sadness, a single thought lingers: What if we’re losing each other?
For the first time, I’m not sure if love is enough to pull us through.
A week has dragged by since that fight with Reid, and the silence between us feels heavier than ever.
I’ve tried to keep the lines of communication open—texting him updates about Liam, calling when I can, leaving voicemails when he doesn’t answer—but it’s always the same.
When he does pick up, his responses are clipped and rushed, like he’s doing me a favor by taking the time.
It stings more than I care to admit. I replay that social media post in my head more times than I’d like to.
The image of Reid with that girl, the easy smile on his face, the comments beneath it—they’ve been etched into my mind, feeding a spiral of doubt and jealousy.
And then there’s Jada, her presence always looming like a dark cloud.
She’s at the same school as Reid, and he’s already been less than honest about talking to her.
The betrayal of that lie still lingers, reopening wounds I thought had healed.
The house feels eerily quiet as Liam naps, his soft breathing coming through the monitor on the counter.
My chest tightens, the weight of everything pressing down on me.
I need clarity, or at the very least, someone to tell me I’m not losing my mind. Picking up my phone, I text Hazel.
Can you come over? I need to talk.
Hazel: Be there in 10.
Hazel breezes into the living room like a whirlwind, her blonde curls bouncing and her usual energy filling the space.
“Alright, Amelia,” she says, plopping onto the couch and tucking her legs underneath her. “What’s going on? You’ve got that look.”
I sigh, sitting across from her. “It’s Reid. We had a fight last week about that picture I saw on social media. Since then, he’s been...distant. Short when I call, barely texting back, if at all.”
Hazel leans forward, her brows furrowing. “Distant how?”
“Like he’s avoiding me,” I admit. “And I can’t stop thinking about that picture. Or Jada. Or the fact that he lied about talking to her. It’s making me question everything. I don’t know if it’s him, or me, or both of us.”
Hazel studies me for a moment before nodding.
“Okay, let’s break this down. First of all, you’re not wrong for feeling the way you feel.
You’re lonely, you’re stressed, and let’s be real—you’re doing all the heavy lifting while Reid’s out living his college life. Of course, that’s going to bother you.”
I let out a shaky breath. “It’s like he’s just...moved on without me. I’m here juggling Liam, work, and everything else, and he’s partying and making new friends like none of this matters.”
Hazel tilts her head, her expression softening.
“It matters, Amelia. I’m sure it does. But…
” She pauses, choosing her words carefully.
“Because you’re feeling all of this—loneliness, neglect, frustration—it’s possible you’re reading too much into things Reid does.
Like that picture, for example. Yeah, it looked bad, but do you really know what it was about? ”
I bite my lip, unsure how to respond. Hazel leans back, crossing her arms. “What I’m saying is, your emotions might be clouding your judgment. I’m not excusing Reid if he’s being a jerk, but sometimes…you blow things up because you’re already so hurt.”
“Maybe,” I say reluctantly. “But Hazel, he lied about Jada. He’s already been dishonest once. How am I supposed to trust him now?”
Hazel raises a brow. “Yeah, that was a bad move on his part. But let’s be honest—why do you think he lied?”
I blink at her, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, Amelia, you and Jada don’t exactly have a friendship. If Reid told you he was talking to her, what would your reaction have been?”
“I don’t know. Probably upset,” I admit, frowning.
“Exactly,” Hazel says, her voice firm. “Maybe he didn’t tell you because he knew how you’d react. If there’s nothing going on between them—and let’s give him the benefit of the doubt for a second—then he probably thought it wasn’t worth the drama.”
“But if there’s nothing to hide,” I argue, “he would’ve just told me from the start.”