POV: Everyone says love changes after a baby. No one tells you what happens when it changes into something you don't recognize.
TW: Postpartum themes, mature emotional content, infidelity, relationship conflict, grief, and heartbreak.
Somehow the world had kept moving.
Videos still had to be filmed.
Meetings still had to happen.
People still expected us to show up every Friday like nothing had changed.
I learned pretty quickly that grief didn’t care about deadlines.
The camera light blinked red.
Nick smiled into the lens.
It felt more like muscle memory than anything.
The first half of filming went by without much thought.
Matt and Nick carried most of the conversation.
I answered when I had to.
Laughed when it felt expected.
Everything felt rehearsed.
Eventually Nick reached for the phone.
“Alright… Question of the Day.”
His smile slowly disappeared.
Nick turned the screen toward him.
“They’re literally all asking the same thing.”
Nick cleared his throat before reading the first one.
The editor censored the name.
The silence inside the car grew heavier with every swipe.
I tightened my grip around the steering wheel.
“There has to be something else.”
Nick gave a small shake of his head.
He let out a nervous laugh.
“They’re all asking about you and—”
“…Do you wanna say anything?”
I kept my eyes on the road.
The yellow lines blurred together beneath the windshield.
I thought about the tiny pink pajamas folded in the dresser I’d helped build.
About the way she’d curl her tiny fingers around mine.
About a little smile I’d only gotten to see on FaceTime now.
“…The baby’s not gonna be on camera anymore.”
“We’re just… keeping some things private.”
Because they already knew.
Nick quietly locked the phone and set it on his lap.
He forced a smile back toward the camera.
He scrolled until he found one unrelated.
“If you had to survive a week living as one of your brothers, who would have the hardest time?”
The conversation moved on.
But none of us really did.
The little red light disappeared.
Matt leaned back in his seat.
I stared through the windshield.
People always said the truth would set you free.
I’d never felt more trapped.
My eyes drifted down to my left hand resting on the steering wheel.
The ring was still there.
I’d worn it every day for almost three years.
It slid off easier than I expected.
I stared at it for a long moment.
Then quietly set it inside the cupholder.
The soft clink echoed through the car.
Nick’s voice was barely above a whisper.
The camera had stopped recording five minutes ago.
But none of us knew how to stop pretending.
It had been two months since Christopher walked out of our front door.
Two months since I helped the love of my life pack his clothes into cardboard boxes.
Two months since our daughter had fallen asleep in both of our arms for the last time under the same roof.
She was already four months old.
Everyone told me this age was supposed to be fun.
That she’d start laughing more.
Watching her grow while grieving the life I’d imagined for her hurt more than I ever thought it could.
She refused to sleep unless I rocked her.
Walking slow circles around her nursery, humming a song my mom used to sing to me.
Her tiny fingers loosened around my shirt.
Her breathing evened out.
I carefully laid her in her crib.
“Good job, baby,” I whispered.
The first real one I’d had all week.
I collapsed into the rocking chair beside her crib.
Sleep wasn’t coming anytime soon.
Mindless scrolling had become my version of silence.
“When the ‘it was for the better’ act wears off and I start to remember how we would stay up till three in the morning talking about the most random things…”
My thumb hovered over the screen.
Christopher and I used to do that all the time.
We’d start talking about what toppings belonged on pizza…
And somehow end up arguing over what we’d name our future kids.
Sometimes we’d forget what we were even talking about.
Sometimes we’d fall asleep talking.
Back when forever still sounded believable.
“How it felt knowing I had to go through with it even though it felt so wrong.”
Leaving him had felt wrong.
Packing his clothes had felt wrong.
Watching him walk away had felt wrong.
Before I could think twice…
Set it on the nightstand.
Then leaned over the crib.
I brushed a tiny curl away from my daughter’s forehead.
“You’ll never have to beg someone to choose you,” I whispered.
I kissed the top of her head.
The sound of my phone vibrating against the nightstand pulled me awake.
I groaned, reaching for it without opening my eyes.
Maybe Christopher asking if he could switch pickup times.
My screen was covered in notifications.
Nick🫰: Call me when you wake up.
Matt🪼: Don’t panic. Just call us first.
bestiee🫂: Please tell me you didn’t mean to repost those.
I sat up so fast the room spun.
My heart started pounding.
My eyes landed on the repost tab.
The two videos were still there.
I didn’t even remember reposting them.
My fingers shook as I removed them.
I let out a shaky breath.
Then another notification came through.
A headline I couldn’t stop staring at.
Fans speculate Chris and Y/N may have separated after emotional TikTok reposts are shared by Y/N.
Hundreds of thousands of likes.
Posted less than an hour ago.
I looked over at the crib.
My daughter was still sleeping peacefully.
Completely unaware that the hardest decision I’d ever made…
Had somehow become entertainment for people who’d never met us.
I slowly locked my phone.
Set it face down on the nightstand.
Then crawled over to the crib.
I reached through the rails, wrapping my finger around her tiny hand.
She squeezed it in her sleep.
And for the first time since everything fell apart…
I wished the world had never known our names.
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