Chapter 22
Megan
I pull into Cody and Karissa’s driveway just after three, the afternoon sun cutting sharply through the windshield. Mason’s working late tonight, and when Karissa texted asking if I wanted to come over, I said yes without thinking twice.
Because I know she’s struggling.
The front door’s unlocked, so I let myself in. “Hello?”
“In here!” Karissa calls from the kitchen.
I find her at the counter, pouring two glasses of iced tea.
“Hey,” Karissa says with a small smile. She looks…better. Not perfect. Not glowing. But better. Her hair’s pulled back into a neat ponytail, she’s wearing jeans instead of sweatpants, and there’s color in her cheeks.
“Hi,” I say, stepping closer.
“Thanks for coming.” She gestures toward the living room. “Come in. Sit.”
We settle onto the couch, Gage still visible from where we’re sitting, Emma playing beside him on the floor.
“How are you?” I ask carefully.
She exhales, tipping her head back against the cushion. “I’m…okay. Some days are better than others.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She wipes at the condensation on her glass. “I started a medication a few weeks ago. My therapist was on board, and of course, my doctor too.”
“Yeah? That’s good! How’s it going?”
“I don’t know yet.” She lets out a soft laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “They say it takes four to six weeks to really work. So I’m just…waiting. Hoping, praying.”
I nod, unsure what to say.
“It’s weird,” she continues, quieter now. “I know logically it’s supposed to help, but right now I just feel…the same. Maybe a little less irritable? But that could be placebo. Or just Gage sleeping better lately.”
“Do you feel like therapy’s helping?”
She pauses, thinking. “Yeah. I think so. The bad days still feel really bad though. But my therapist keeps reminding me that progress isn’t linear.” She glances at me. “Whatever that means.”
I smile gently. “It means you’re allowed to have bad days and still be getting better.”
“I guess.” She takes a sip of her drink, eyes drifting toward Emma. “Cody’s been…really patient. More patient than I deserve.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true.” Her voice cracks, just barely. “I’ve been such a mess. And he just…keeps showing up. Keeps trying. Even when I push him away.”
My chest tightens. “That’s what love is, Karissa.”
She nods, blinking fast. “I know. I just hate that he has to do this. That he has to deal with me like this.”
“You’re his wife. In sickness and in health, right?”
She lets out a breathy laugh. “I guess.”
We sit in silence for a moment before she shifts, turning toward me more fully.
“I just… My thoughts… You’d think I was awful.”
“Why?”
“Because, like— Okay, for example…” She hesitates, like she’s weighing the words. “When Addison announced she was pregnant the other day…” Her voice drops. “My first thought was, Are you crazy? Why would anyone sign up for this?”
I blink, caught off guard by her honesty. I didn’t know what she’d say, but I didn’t think it would be that.
“And I know that’s terrible,” she says quickly. “She’s so excited, everyone’s happy. But all I could think was that she has no idea what she’s getting into.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “Like, I wish I would’ve warned her. Told her not to.”
“Karissa—”
“I don’t actually feel that way,” she interrupts. “I love my kids. I do. But in that moment? All I felt was dread. For her. Like she just signed up for the hardest thing in the world and doesn’t even know it yet.”
She shakes her head, eyes unfocused. “And then I felt guilty for even thinking that. Because what kind of person hears a pregnancy announcement and thinks, ‘Wow, you’re screwed’?”
“Someone who’s struggling,” I say gently.
She studies my face, like she’s bracing for judgment.
“You’re in the thick of it right now,” I continue. “Of course that’s where your brain goes. It just shows how much you’re hurting.”
Her chin trembles. “I just want to feel happy about things again. Normal things. Like babies and announcements and all the stuff everyone else gets excited about.”
“You will,” I tell her. “It’s going to take time. But you will.”
She nods, swiping at her cheek. “The medication better kick in soon. There’s a whole lot of birthdays and baby showers and weddings coming up.” She laughs, lightening the tension.
“Give it time.”
We sit there a little longer, the sound of Emma’s voice talking to Gage filling the space. Gage starts fussing, and Karissa stands, lifting him from the floor and settling him on her shoulder.
He relaxes instantly, his head dropping against her.
“He loves you,” I say softly. “You’re their favorite person in this whole world.”
She looks down at Gage, then back at me. “Yeah.” She smiles. “Thanks, Meg. For listening. And not judging.”
“Of course,” I say.
But as the day goes on, her words echo in my head. And I wonder if I’m slowly unraveling like she did too.
* * *
When I pull into our driveway, Mason’s truck still isn’t there. The house sits dark and quiet, waiting.
I let myself in, drop my purse on the counter, and sink onto the couch without even turning on a light. The silence presses in around me.
I keep replaying Karissa’s words in my head, turning them over like stones I’m examining from every angle. She has two kids. Two beautiful, healthy kids. And she can barely handle it. The medication, the therapy, the constant struggle just to feel okay—and she’s living what I’ve been desperate for.
What if I get what I want and end up the same way? What if I’m not built for it either?
The thought sits heavy in my chest, expanding until it’s hard to breathe.
I think about the baby showers I’ve attended, the perfect Instagram posts, the glowing pregnant women who make it all look so easy and joyful.
But Karissa told me the truth behind the curtain. And it’s terrifying.
My phone buzzes on the cushion beside me. It’s Mason, telling me he’s on his way home, and that he loves me.
When he walks through the door thirty minutes later, he finds me exactly where I’ve been since I got home.
“Hey,” he says softly, flipping the light on. “Why you sitting in the dark?” He laughs.
“I don’t know.” I laugh too, but it’s not as sure as his.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
He studies me for a second, then crosses the room and sits beside me. “You sure?”
I take a breath. “I went to see Karissa today.”
“Yeah? How’s she doing?”
“She got on medication, waiting to see if it helps.” I pick at a thread on the couch cushion. “But she said something that’s been stuck in my head.”
Mason shifts, turning toward me. “What’d she say?”
I tell him everything, as much as I can remember of her exact words, that is. It was a lot.
“Meg—” he tries to cut in.
“And I keep thinking,” I interrupt, my voice wavering, “what if that’s me? What if I finally get pregnant and I end up just like her? Struggling. Drowning. Resenting the thing I wanted so badly?”
“You won’t,” Mason says firmly.
“You don’t know that.”
“I know but—” He reaches for my hand, squeezing it.
“But what if it is?” I look at him, eyes burning.
“Then we’ll get you help,” he says simply. “Just like Cody got Karissa help. We’ll figure it out together.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know if I could do it, Mason. I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”
“You are,” he insists, his voice gentle but certain. He pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me. I close my eyes, breathing him in—the familiar smell of his cologne still faintly clinging to his body.
We sit like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between us.
“I don’t care if it’s nothing like we imagined. If God gives us a baby, we’ll figure it out. Together.”
My throat tightens. “Even if I’m a mess?”
“Especially if you’re a mess.” He brushes a tear from my cheek. “Because you’re my mess. And I’m here to take care of you.”
I let out a shaky laugh, and he smiles, pressing a kiss to my forehead.