13. Struggling Bonds
STRUGGLING BONDS
As I step into the restaurant, the warm glow of string lights and the hum of lively conversation fill the air. Hazel’s infectious energy and the cheerful atmosphere around me attempt to push the weight of the past year into the background, but it lingers, ever-present.
This is the second year of juggling motherhood, work, and the strain of a long-distance relationship with Reid, and it hasn’t been kind.
If the first year was defined by excitement and new beginnings—adjusting to life with Liam, diving into a promising career, and Reid heading off to college, this year will be a lesson in endurance.
The spark that used to define my connection with Reid has flickered under the weight of distance, time, and mounting misunderstandings.
It started small. Missed calls that turned into days without meaningful conversations.
The occasional disagreement that grew into full-blown arguments.
Reid’s college life took on a rhythm of its own, one that didn’t seem to have room for me.
At the same time, my own world grew more chaotic—longer hours at work, more responsibilities at home, and the never-ending effort of being everything Liam needed me to be.
I thought I could handle it all. For a while, I did.
I found joy in Liam’s milestones—his first words, his first wobbly steps—and pride in my accomplishments at work.
Eric’s mentorship has been instrumental, helping me navigate high-profile projects that challenged and fulfilled me in equal measure. But as I balanced these roles, my relationship with Reid slipped further from my grasp.
The fights became more frequent. Our conversations, once filled with laughter and dreams, shifted to strained exchanges and empty pleasantries.
Social media posts and unanswered questions added fuel to the fire of doubt between us.
Reid and I were still trying, but the cracks in our foundation grew deeper, harder to ignore.
Now, as I stand surrounded by friends and coworkers celebrating my birthday, I can’t help but reflect on everything. It’s been a year of growth and resilience, but also one of loss—loss of the closeness I once shared with Reid, loss of the belief that love alone can carry us through.
“Amelia!” Hazel’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. She’s beaming as she rushes over, her excitement a stark contrast to the melancholy tugging at me. “Happy birthday! You look incredible!”
The hum of chatter and laughter fills the air. String lights hang overhead, casting a warm glow across the room. Hazel spared no detail—every table is adorned with small bouquets of fresh flowers, and a giant
“Happy Birthday, Amelia!” banner hangs proudly across one wall. My coworkers and friends greet me with cheers and applause, making me laugh despite the heaviness in my chest.
“Thanks, Hazel,” I say, trying to match her enthusiasm. “This is...a lot. You really didn’t have to go all out.”
“Of course, I did,” she says, waving me off. “You deserve to be celebrated. Now, go mingle. This night is all about you.”
I smile, though it doesn’t quite reach my eyes.
Hazel’s effort is touching, and I’m grateful for her thoughtfulness.
But no matter how beautiful the decorations or how cheerful the atmosphere, there’s a lingering sadness I can’t shake.
Reid didn’t call. He didn’t text. Not even a simple “Happy Birthday.”
I make my way around the room, exchanging pleasantries with everyone.
My coworkers are animated, recounting funny stories from the office and teasing me about getting older.
Liam is at my mom’s for the night, giving me a rare evening to relax.
And yet, I can’t stop checking my phone, hoping for a notification that never comes.
“Amelia!” Eric’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. He’s standing near the bar, holding a glass of sparkling water. His tailored suit and confident smile make him stand out in the crowd. “Happy birthday.”
“Thanks, Eric,” I say, smiling politely as he leans in for a brief hug.
“I see Hazel really pulled out all the stops,” he says, gesturing to the lively room. “You’ve got quite the friend.”
“I’m lucky,” I reply. “She’s been my best friend forever. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
Eric nods, his gaze lingering on me for a beat too long. “Well, you deserve it. It’s not every day you get to celebrate someone as hardworking and...remarkable as you.”
I laugh nervously, brushing off the compliment. “Thanks. It’s been a busy year, so it’s nice to unwind a little.”
“Busy but impressive,” he adds. “Many of our projects are a huge success, and that’s largely thanks to you. Your work ethic and dedication are unparalleled.”
“Just doing my job,” I say, keeping my tone light.
“Still,” Eric says, raising his glass. “Here’s to you, Amelia. Both for your birthday and for being an incredible part of the team.”
“Thank you,” I say, clinking my glass against his.
The exchange feels polite, harmless even, but I can’t ignore the way his words might be misconstrued by others—or the way his lingering smile feels like it’s toeing a line. I glance across the room and catch Hazel watching us, her expression unreadable. She quickly waves me over.
“Excuse me,” I say to Eric, making my way toward Hazel.
“Everything okay?” she asks, handing me a small plate of appetizers.
“Yeah,” I reply, my voice softer now. “Just...a lot to take in.”
Hazel studies me for a moment, her sharp eyes catching what I’m trying to hide. “Reid didn’t call, did he?”
I shake my head, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Not even a text. It’s like he forgot.”
Hazel frowns, her grip tightening on her plate. “Amelia, I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”
“It’s fine,” I say quickly, though the crack in my voice betrays me. “I don’t want to ruin tonight. You worked so hard to make this special.”
“You’re not ruining anything,” she says firmly. “But you don’t have to pretend, either. It’s okay to be upset. He should’ve called.”
I nod, blinking back tears. “I just...I miss him, Hazel. Even with all these people here, it feels like something’s missing.”
Hazel pulls me into another hug, her warmth grounding me. “I get it,” she says softly. “But don’t let him steal this moment from you. Tonight is about celebrating you. And if he doesn’t realize how amazing you are, that’s his loss.”
Her words are comforting, but the ache in my chest doesn’t ease. I glance at my phone again, half-hoping for a last-minute message, but the screen remains empty. Determined not to dwell, I force a smile and let Hazel pull me back into the festivities.
As the evening goes on, someone suggests taking pictures. Hazel organizes everyone into groups, snapping shots of me with friends, coworkers, and eventually the entire party. She hands me my phone and nudges me.
“Post these! People need to see how fabulous you look tonight,” she says.
I laugh, shaking my head. “Fine. But if I post a group photo, everyone has to agree I don’t look awkward.”
“You? Awkward? Never,” Hazel teases, striking a pose beside me for a selfie.
I scroll through the pictures, selecting a few to upload. The caption is simple:
Feeling loved and celebrated on my special day. Thank you, everyone, for making this birthday unforgettable!
Within minutes, the notifications start rolling in.
Happy birthday, Amelia!
You look amazing!
Wishing you the best year yet!
The flood of messages warms my heart, but the one I truly want never comes. Hazel notices me glancing at my phone and leans over.
“Forget about him,” she whispers. “Focus on the people who are here for you.”
I nod, tucking my phone away. The night carries on with laughter, delicious food, and Hazel’s tireless efforts to keep me smiling. But as much as I try to enjoy the moment, a part of me can’t help but feel the weight of Reid’s absence, the silence between us growing louder with every passing hour.
The next day dawns with the promise of clarity—or so I tell myself as I pick up my phone and scroll through my missed calls and messages. None of them are from Reid. The ache in my chest, dulled by last night’s festivities, comes roaring back with a vengeance.
After feeding Liam breakfast and settling him down for playtime, I decide I can’t put it off any longer. I sit at the edge of the couch, phone in hand, staring at Reid’s name on the screen. My thumb hovers over the call button as a million thoughts run through my mind.
Maybe he’ll apologize. Maybe he didn’t really forget. Maybe…
I shake the thoughts away, steel my nerves, and press the button.
The phone rings twice before Reid’s voice comes through, distant and distracted. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I reply, my tone sharper than I intend. “Are you busy?”
There’s a pause, then the faint rustling of papers on his end. “Just going over notes. What’s up?”
“Just going over notes?” I repeat, the bitterness slipping into my voice. “So you’re not too busy to take a call today?”
“Amelia, what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, his tone defensive.
I close my eyes, trying to keep my emotions in check, but the words come spilling out anyway. “It means you didn’t even call me yesterday. Or text. Or—God, Reid, you didn’t even acknowledge my birthday!”
There’s a beat of silence, and then he sighs. “Amelia, I’m sorry. I’ve been swamped with studying. Exams are coming up, and I?—”
“Stop,” I interrupt, my voice trembling. “Don’t tell me you were too busy. You couldn’t spare five seconds to send a text? To say ‘happy birthday’?”
“I didn’t mean to forget,” he says, his tone softening slightly. “It’s just...I’ve got so much on my plate right now.”
“And I don’t?” I snap, my frustration bubbling over. “Reid, I’m raising our son. I’m working full-time. I’m managing everything on my own while you’re off at college, partying, taking pictures with random girls, and?—”
“That’s not fair,” he cuts in, his voice rising. “You think I’m just over here having the time of my life? I’m working my ass off, Amelia. I’m trying to build a future for us, for Liam.”