7. Buried Doubts
BURIED DOUBTS
As I scroll through Reid’s texts with Jada, a sinking feeling takes hold. Dates and times, stamped on each message, reveal a timeline that stretches back weeks. I didn’t know they attended the same school; however, why would Reid hide this from me? I look back through the text messages.
Jada: Hey! Thanks for meeting me for a study session.
Reid: Sure, no problem. Good luck with the assignment.
The texts seem innocent enough. But as I continue to read, it becomes apparent that there’s much more going on between Reid and Jada than just studying.
Jada: Are you going to Caleb’s party tonight?
Reid: I don’t think so. I’m going to study a little bit.
Jada: Yeah, right! You’re just going to sulk and watch videos of Liam. Come on. Let lose a little.
Reid: Fine, I’ll come for a little while.
I’m genuinely happy for Reid, seeing him embrace college life with such gusto. It’s what we both wanted for him, after all. But Jada... Jada is in the picture. That’s a reality I hadn’t prepared myself for. A sting of jealousy tugs at my heart.
As I continue to sift through the sea of messages, each word feels like a tiny dagger to my heart.
There are multiple conversations about study sessions and shared jokes.
Reid and Jada had more interactions than I could have ever imagined.
The reality of their relationship is far beyond what I had initially thought.
However, something must have happened because she’s been texting nonstop without a reply from Reid.
Jada: I’m sorry, Reid.
Jada: Will you stop ignoring me?
Jada: Come on. I’ve apologized for what I said about your precious Amelia.
Jada: I mean well. I’m just trying to put things into perspective for you.
Jada: Stop ignoring me!
Jada: Doesn’t mean I’m not right.
Jada: Think about what I said, and you’ll realize I’m right. Be honest with yourself and what it is you want.
The shower shuts off, snapping me out of my stupor. Panic seizes me, knotting my stomach as the bathroom door creaks open.
“Amelia? You okay?” Reid’s voice is filled with innocent concern, and it feels like a punch in the gut.
I stand there frozen, Reid’s phone clutched tightly in my shaking hand. My heart hammers in my chest, each beat echoing the words I’ve just read. My gaze shifts from the phone’s screen to his face. His damp hair sticks to his forehead, a towel wrapped around his waist.
The surprise in his eyes gives way to a look of confusion, then dawning comprehension as he sees his phone in my hand. I see a flicker of panic, a shadow of guilt, before he schools his features into a calm mask.
“Why, Reid?” The words spill from my lips, each syllable a hammer blow. “Why would you hide something like this from me?” My voice trembles, the phone still gripped tightly in my hand.
“Hide what, Amelia?” He feigns innocence, but I see right through it. “That I go to school with Jada? That she’s got my number?”
“Yes!” I explode, my patience wearing thin. “And why would you hide you were hanging out with her? You said it was some college buddy texting you.”
“Well, isn’t she a college buddy?” he shoots back, his voice climbing an octave. “What does it matter, Amelia? So what if we attend the same school? Is that a crime?”
“No, Reid, it’s not a crime,” I retort, my heart pounding in my chest. “But you know Jada and I don’t get along. You deliberately hid this from me.”
“I was friends with Jada before you even came into the picture, Amelia. Can’t I keep my friends?” His voice is tight now, a clear sign that he’s struggling to keep his temper in check. “I didn’t lie. She is a college buddy. I don’t see why this is such a big deal.”
The words hang in the air, a stark reminder of the widening gap between us. If there was nothing to hide, he would have simply told me.
“Keep your voice down, Reid,” I warn, glancing down the hall towards Liam’s room. “You’ll wake him up.”
“And you think I want that?” He snaps back, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Reid,” I plead, my voice barely a whisper. I’m still clutching his phone, my fingers numbing from the tight grip. “Just tell me. What did Jada say that made you ignore her?”
His face pales slightly, and for a moment, silence hangs in the air. He doesn’t meet my gaze, his eyes shifting restlessly. “You read the texts, didn’t you?” he finally asks.
“I did,” I admit, my voice firm. “And now, I want to know. What did she say, Reid?”
He takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “She said... she said things about us, Amelia,” he confesses. “About you and me. Things that I didn’t want to hear. Things that were too close to the truth.”
I feel a chill go down my spine. I want to ask him more, to know what those ‘truths’ were. But I don’t. I can’t. Instead, I demand, “Why are you still ignoring her, then?”
He sighs, frustration etching lines on his face. “Because she was right, Amelia,” he mutters, his voice barely audible. “And I hate she was right.”
“What do you mean, Reid?” I ask hesitantly.
Reid looks at me, the weight of his confession heavy in the air between us.
“At school, I sit there, surrounded by these college students, and I can’t help but wonder how different life could’ve been.
I mean, I look at them—laughing, carefree, making plans for the weekend without a second thought.
It’s like they’re building connections based on shared interests, not shared responsibilities,” he starts, then continues, not giving me the chance to interject.
“I watch them, and it hits me. Back home, my life is a whole different ball game. Instead of hanging out at a coffee shop discussing class projects, I’m here juggling baby bottles and diapers.
Late-night study sessions are replaced by late-night feedings and diaper changes.
My days are a rollercoaster of lectures, deadlines, and coming home to the symphony of baby cries. ”
“There, on this campus,” he continues. “I see these students planning their futures without a care in the world about the impact of a little one. They’re exploring opportunities, interning in exciting cities, and backpacking through countries I can only dream about.
What if I could chase my dreams without worrying about if Liam has enough diapers or clothes? ”
He sits on the bed with a heavy sigh. “Picture it. A life where decisions are solely mine, where I can impulsively decide to travel, change my major, or hell, even take a year off to find myself. A life without the weight of a strained relationship, without the guilt that comes with pursuing personal dreams when there’s a little one and a significant other relying on you. ”
He looks at me then. “I daydream about it, you know? But then, in those moments when the longing for a different life hits hard, I look at my child’s innocent face, and it’s like reality smacks me in the face.
This journey, with all its damn challenges, is uniquely mine.
There’s a love and responsibility that grounds me and makes me resilient in the face of adversity.
Maybe my path is unique, but it’s still filled with opportunities for growth and happiness—just in a way I never imagined.
It’s a trade-off, a choice I made that defines me in ways I’m only beginning to understand. ”
“That is why I stopped texting her,” he finishes. “She’s only spewing doubt where there shouldn’t be doubt.”
I stare at Reid, an array of emotions swirling inside me. Hurt, anger, betrayal, understanding, and something else, something I can’t quite place. Breathing out a shaky sigh, I find my voice.
“Reid,” I begin, my voice unsteady. “If you were all in, secure in this relationship, truly happy with the way your life is now, then there wouldn’t have been any room for doubt to begin with.”
Reid’s gaze hardens, his words steady yet brimming with emotion.
“Amelia, I’m human,” he says. “I feel emotions, I feel confused, I feel overwhelmed. It’s normal to wonder, to think about ‘what ifs’.
That doesn’t make me the bad guy. It doesn’t mean I want to change a thing.
It’s a part of being human, Amelia, and it’s part of who we are. ”
His words hang in the air, a raw confession that leaves me at a loss for words, blurring the lines between righteousness and human nature.
“I’m not ready for bed, Reid,” I say, meeting his gaze. “You should go on without me.” I stand up, smoothing out the wrinkles in my shirt. “I’m going to make a cup of tea before I turn in.”
I don’t wait for his response, the weight of our conversation still hanging heavy in the air. The silence in the room is deafening, filling the space between us. I brace myself, fighting the urge to look back, and instead, I walk out of the room, leaving Reid sitting there, alone with his thoughts.
I make my way down the quiet hall, my mind a whirlpool of thoughts, each battling for dominance. Entering the kitchen, I reach for the kettle, the familiar weight in my hand oddly comforting. I fill it with water, the sound echoing in the silence, and set it down on the stove.
I wait for it to whistle, the anticipation mirroring the turmoil within me. Once it does, I pour the steaming water over the tea bag in my cup, watching as the water changes color, losing itself to the tea just as I feel myself losing control over the situation.
With the cup in hand, I move to the living room, sinking into the worn fabric of the couch. Each sip of the tea is bittersweet, like the conversation I just had with Reid. My gaze settles on the patterned carpet, but I hardly see it.
Instead, my mind replays Reid’s confession, his words wrapping around me like a blanket - warm yet suffocating.
The tea burns my tongue, a stark contrast to the chill that Reid’s words left within me.
I hug my knees, wrapping my fingers around the warmth of the cup, seeking comfort in its steady presence.
I sit there, lost in thought, my mind grappling with the difficult, uncomfortable truths about love, life, and the price of dreams. The surrounding silence is a stark contrast to the chaos within, a poignant reminder of the complexity of the human heart.
Finally, the tea is gone; the bitterness lingering on my tongue as I rinse the cup out in the sink.
The porcelain clinks against the metal, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent kitchen.
I dry my hands and walk back toward our bedroom, the hallway dimly lit by the soft moonlight filtering through the windows.
I halt at Liam’s room first, pushing the door open gently.
The hushed sounds of his steady breathing fill the room, and a soft smile tugs at my lips.
He’s still sleeping, snug in his crib, oblivious to the world outside his dreams. With a last glance at my peaceful son, I leave his room, carefully shutting the door behind me.
My feet guide me back to our bedroom. The door creaks slightly as I push it open, mentally cursing the noise. I assume Reid is asleep, his body unmoving in the dim light. So I tread softly, the carpet muffling my steps as I make my way to our bed.
The sheets are cool against my skin as I slip under them, a stark contrast to the warmth that envelopes me when I finally settle down.
Suddenly, I feel Reid stir behind me. His arm, warm and strong, snakes around my waist, and he pulls me closer, erasing the chilly space between us.
His chest is firm against my back, his heartbeat a soothing rhythm against my spine.
We fall into that familiar spooning position, his body a protective curve against mine.
Reid’s breath, warm and fragrant, brushes against my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.
His lips move to my ear, and his words, barely above a whisper, fill the silence.
“Amelia,” he murmurs, his voice rumbling in his chest. “I love you. You know that, right?” His words hang in the air, a confession wrapped in the darkness of our room.
I close my eyes, letting his words wash over me. A part of me wants to drown in their depth, in their sincerity. But despite the comforting warmth of his embrace, a knot of uncertainty coils in my stomach.
“I know,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “But love isn’t just about saying the words, Reid. It’s about feeling them, living them. Can we do that?” My words, filled with doubt, seem to echo in the stillness.
Reid tightens his grip around me, pulling me even closer.
His heart beats steadily against me, the rhythm both comforting and jarring.
“We’re going to get through this, Amelia,” he whispers, his voice firm and sure.
“We’re strong, you and I. Our love is strong and we’ve weathered storms before, haven’t we? ”
“Yes,” I reply, my voice wavering. “But this is different, Reid. This isn’t just a storm, it’s a hurricane. Are we strong enough to withstand it?”
He’s silent for a moment, the silence filled with his warm, even breaths. “I believe we are,” he finally says, his voice a mixture of determination and doubt. “We love each other. That’s got to count for something, right?”
I don’t answer, letting his words hang in the air, filling the space between us.
His love, his faith in us, warms me, giving me a glimmer of hope amid my doubts.
But as I drift off to sleep, his arm securely around me, I can’t shake off the feeling of uncertainty that clings to me, threatening to pull us into its depths.