13. Struggling Bonds #2
“Then act like it!” I shout, unable to hold back. “Because right now, it feels like you’ve already moved on. Like Liam and I are just...background noise in your life.”
“That’s not true,” he says, but the conviction in his voice is thin, almost hesitant. “You’re blowing this out of proportion.”
“Am I?” I challenge. “Reid, when’s the last time we had an actual conversation? One that wasn’t rushed? When’s the last time you asked me how I’m doing? Or how Liam’s doing?”
He doesn’t respond immediately, and the silence is louder than any argument we’ve ever had.
“Amelia,” he starts, but I cut him off.
“No,” I say, my voice breaking. “This isn’t just about my birthday. It’s about everything. The distance. The silence. The feeling that I’m the only one fighting to keep us together.”
“Do you think this is easy for me?” he snaps, his frustration bubbling over. “I’m trying to balance school, exams, internships, everything—and then you call, accusing me of not caring, of not trying. Do you know how exhausting that is?”
I flinch at his words, but the anger in his voice only fuels my own.
“You think you’re the only one who’s exhausted?
Reid, I’m exhausted every single day. From the moment I wake up until the second I collapse into bed, I’m exhausted.
And you know what? I’d still drop everything to make you feel loved.
To remind you that you matter to me. But you can’t even send a damn text. ”
“I said I was sorry,” he bites back. “What more do you want from me, Amelia?”
“I want you to act like you care,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “I want you to show me that we still matter to you. That Liam and I aren’t just...an afterthought.”
Another silence stretches between us, heavy and suffocating. When Reid finally speaks, his voice is quiet, almost defeated. “I do care. But sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, it’s never enough for you.”
His words hit me like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. “That’s not fair,” I say softly. “I’m not asking for perfection, Reid. I’m asking for effort. For...something.”
“I’m giving everything I’ve got,” he says, and for the first time, there’s a hint of vulnerability in his voice. “Maybe it’s not enough for you, but it’s all I have.”
The raw honesty in his words stings, and I don’t know how to respond.
My anger deflates, replaced by a deep, aching sadness.
As the argument with Reid simmers into an uneasy quiet, the lingering thoughts I’ve always tried to push away come rushing back with full force.
Does he feel trapped? The question claws at my chest, raw and unrelenting.
I’ve wondered this before, back when Liam was born, and the weight of our responsibilities suddenly became all too real.
I thought we’d worked through it—that Reid had reassured me enough times that he wanted this life with me, with Liam.
But now, with the distance, the arguments, and the silence, those old fears resurface.
What if he’s only staying because he feels like he has to?
Because of Liam? What if this isn’t the life he really wants?
The thought stings, and I fight back the tears threatening to spill.
I don’t want to ask him, not directly. I’m not sure I could handle the answer if it isn’t the one I want to hear.
“I don’t want to fight with you,” I say finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t know how to fix this.”
“Neither do I,” he admits, and the weight of those words feels unbearable.
I close my eyes, a tear slipping down my cheek. “Reid...I just need to know that you’re still in this. That we’re still in this.”
“I am,” he says, but the hesitation in his voice makes me wonder if he’s trying to convince himself more than me. “I just...I need time to figure everything out.”
Time. The one thing we seem to have too much of and never enough of all at once.
“Okay,” I say, my voice breaking. “Take your time.”
“Amelia, don’t do that,” he says quickly. “Don’t shut me out.”
“I’m not shutting you out,” I say, wiping my tears. “But I can’t keep doing this, Reid. I can’t keep feeling like I’m fighting for something that’s slipping through my fingers.”
“Amelia?” There’s a softness in it now, like the anger has drained away, leaving something more familiar. “I know this isn’t easy. None of this is. But...together, always and forever. Right?”
My heart skips at the words. It’s been so long since either of us has said them, our old promise to each other that used to feel unbreakable. Hearing it now feels like a lifeline, fragile but hopeful.
I hesitate for a moment, my throat tight, then I force myself to respond. “Together, always and forever.”
The line goes silent again, and when he finally speaks, his voice is barely audible. “I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper.
The call ends, and I sit there staring at the phone in my hands. The weight of the conversation presses down on me, suffocating and relentless. I glance over at Liam, playing happily on the floor, blissfully unaware of the turmoil between his parents.
For his sake, I want to believe that Reid and I can find our way back to each other. But for the first time, I’m not sure if love is enough to bridge the growing divide between us.
Two days have passed since my uncomfortable conversation with Reid, and I still feel unease. However, I can’t do anything but push forward and continue my routine. Life continues no matter what’s happening from day to day. Especially work.
The hum of polite conversation fills the room as I stand near the bar, nursing a glass of sparkling water. The cocktail party is more formal than I expected, with men in tailored suits and women in elegant dresses that shimmer under the soft glow of chandeliers.
Eric is in his element, weaving effortlessly through the crowd, shaking hands and sharing laughs with colleagues and collaborators.
I adjust the strap of my dress, glancing around the room.
It’s not that I dislike events like this—being here is part of the job, after all—but I can’t help but feel out of place.