Every version of you
SUMMARY: After a cruel social media rumor claims that Josh is unhappy in their marriage and that having three children has “aged” YN, her confidence begins to crumble. Things become worse when six-year-old Miles sees one of the videos and starts questioning whether his father plans to leave.
WC: 6.1k
WARNINGS: Age-gap mentions, social media harassment, body-image insecurities, postpartum body discussion, motherhood struggles, cruel comments about aging and appearance, marital insecurity, child overhearing upsetting rumors, crying, emotional distress, and hurt/comfort.
Requested: Josh Manson + Social media starts a rumor that destroys your confidence.
The rumor started with a photograph taken on your twenty-eighth birthday.
Not during the small breakfast Josh and the boys had attempted to make for you that morning, when Miles proudly carried a plate of slightly burned pancakes into the bedroom while Noah dragged a balloon behind him and Jude sat on Josh’s hip, clapping because everyone else was excited.
Not when Josh handed you a thin gold necklace with four tiny charms—an initial for each of your boys, including his—and watched nervously as you opened it.
Not when he kissed you in the kitchen while Miles complained loudly that birthdays were supposed to involve cake, not “gross married stuff.”
The picture appeared later that night.
Josh had planned a dinner for the two of you at one of your favorite restaurants in Denver. It was the first proper date you had managed in weeks. Between Josh’s schedule, Miles’s school, Noah’s determination to climb every piece of furniture in the house, and Jude still waking during the night, time alone had become increasingly rare.
Your mother had offered to watch the children, but Jude had cried as soon as you placed him in her arms. You had nearly canceled. Josh had stood by the front door in his dress shirt, patiently waiting while you walked Jude around the living room and tried to calm him.
“We can stay home,” you had said.
Josh had shaken his head “You’ve been looking forward to this all week.”
“He’s upset.”
“He’ll be okay.”
“What if he isn’t?”
“Then your mom will call us, and we’ll come back.”
You had looked down at Jude, who was clutching the neckline of your dress with one tiny fist. Josh moved closer and rubbed a hand over Jude’s back “Buddy, I already made reservations. You can’t ruin my marriage like this.”
Your mother laughed from the couch, You gave Josh an unimpressed look “He’s one.”
“He knows exactly what he’s doing.” Eventually, Jude settled enough for you to leave.
Dinner had been wonderful.
Josh made you put your phone away so you couldn’t check the baby monitor application every three minutes. He ordered dessert without asking because he knew which one you wanted. He listened while you talked about Miles struggling with reading aloud in class and Noah refusing to use any cup that wasn’t blue.
There had been no argument.
No tension.
No sign that your marriage was falling apart.
But when you left the restaurant, your mother called to tell you Jude had woken up and wouldn’t settle. You were already worried as you stepped onto the sidewalk.
Josh took your hand while answering your mother’s questions through the car’s speaker. He walked slightly ahead because a photographer had appeared near the curb, and he was trying to guide you around him without causing a scene.
The photograph captured only one second, Josh was looking forward with a tense expression. You were behind him, your hand still in his, looking down at your phone.
By the following morning, the image had been reposted by several hockey gossip accounts.
The first caption was relatively harmless.
Trouble in paradise? Josh Manson and his wife look tense after her birthday dinner.
You rolled your eyes when your friend sent it to you. Apparently we’re getting divorced because Jude woke up, you replied.
She responded with three laughing emojis and told you to ignore it.
You intended to.
Then another account reposted the photo beside an older one from the beginning of your relationship.
You were twenty-one in that picture, standing beside Josh at an offseason event. Your face was rounder, your hair was longer, and you were wearing a fitted dress you hadn’t seen in years. The newer photograph showed you at twenty-eight after three pregnancies and countless sleepless nights.
The caption read:
Seven years younger and somehow she’s the one who looks exhausted. Three kids before thirty will do that. Josh already seems checked out.
That one spread quickly. People began arguing about the age difference between you and Josh, some insisted that you had been too young when you started dating him, despite the fact that you had been an adult and neither of you had hidden the timeline.
Others accused you of intentionally becoming pregnant quickly to “secure” the relationship.
Someone claimed Josh had only married you because Miles had been conceived.
That wasn’t true.
You and Josh had already been engaged when you discovered you were pregnant with Miles. The wedding had been postponed because you wanted to wait until after he was born, not arranged because of him.
The facts didn’t matter. Within hours, strangers had constructed an entire version of your life, according to social media, you had sacrificed your twenties to raise Josh’s children while he continued living freely.
You were isolated, he was controlling. You looked miserable, he looked bored. You had aged badly, he would eventually leave you for someone younger, even though you were already seven years younger than him.
At first, the comments almost seemed absurd enough to be funny.
You sent Josh one while he was at practice.
Someone thinks you forced me to have three children.
He responded a few minutes later.
I can barely force Noah to wear pants.
You laughed. Then you made the mistake of continuing to read, someone posted a close-up of your face from the restaurant picture and pointed out the shadows beneath your eyes. Another compared your body before Miles to your body after Jude.
A popular account created a poll asking whether Josh would still be married to you by his thirty-fifth birthday.
The options were:
No
and
Absolutely not
You stared at the poll much longer than you should have, Josh was thirty-four and would turn thirty-five in a few months. You had just turned twenty-eight. The age difference had never felt significant inside your home.
Josh never treated you as though you were younger or less capable. You made decisions together. You argued like equals, you divided responsibilities as fairly as his career allowed.
But strangers reduced you to the younger wife who had spent her best years having children. That phrasing lodged itself in your mind.
Your best years. As though they were already over.
You looked around the living room, there were toys beneath the coffee table, a basket of unfolded laundry beside the couch, and a faint stain on your shirt from where Jude had spit up after breakfast.
You hadn’t washed your hair in three days, your body no longer looked like it had when you met Josh. Your stomach a bit softer. Your hips were wider. Fine lines had appeared around your eyes from exhaustion and laughter. There were pale stretch marks across your skin and a small scar low on your abdomen from Jude’s emergency delivery.
You had never hated those things before.
Some days, you struggled with them, especially when getting dressed for team events surrounded by women who seemed impossibly polished. But Josh had always made you feel wanted.
He kissed your stretch marks, he rested his hand over your stomach when you slept, he still looked at you across crowded rooms in a way that made you feel twenty-one again. But after reading hundreds of strangers say he was only pretending, you started wondering whether you had misread him.
The rumor followed you for the rest of the week, Josh attended a team dinner alone because Noah had a fever. A photograph of him laughing with teammates appeared online.
He looks happier without her.
You skipped a home game because Jude had been awake all night with teething pain and Miles was sad because he lost his drawing, when he was the one who throw it in the trash when he spilled his water on it.
She never supports him anymore.
Josh failed to like the birthday post you uploaded until several hours later because he had been at practice.
He couldn’t even pretend to care on her birthday.
You knew there were explanations, you knew the accounts were manipulating ordinary moments. But knowing something logically didn’t stop it from hurting emotionally.
You began checking your reflection more often.
Every time Josh looked at his phone, you wondered whether he had seen the posts. Whenever he seemed quiet after practice, you wondered whether he was thinking about the poll.
You started changing clothes before he came into the bedroom.
When he walked into the bathroom while you were getting ready, you immediately pulled your robe closed. Josh paused in the doorway “Sorry my love”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“You covered yourself like I caught you committing a crime.”
“I’m cold.”
He glanced toward the shower, which was still filling the room with steam “Right.”
You avoided his eyes.
That night, he tried to pull you closer in bed, you pretended to be asleep. His arm remained around your waist for several minutes before slowly withdrawing.
You felt him roll onto his back. The disappointment in that small movement nearly made you turn around and tell him everything. Instead, you closed your eyes more tightly.
The worst moment happened three days later.
You were in the kitchen packing Miles’s lunch when you heard Noah’s tablet playing a video from the living room. You had restricted most applications, but sometimes clips slipped through the child settings, especially when they included hockey footage.
A woman’s voice came through the speaker “Fans are convinced there could be trouble in Josh Manson’s marriage after recent photos—”
You dropped the sandwich bag onto the counter “Noah.”
He didn’t respond.
You rushed into the living room and found the tablet propped against the couch. Noah was sitting on the floor with toy cars, barely paying attention.
Miles was standing behind him, unlike Noah, he was listening. On the screen, the host showed the birthday photograph.
Then the older picture, your stomach dropped.
“Mommy?” Miles asked. You grabbed the tablet and stopped the video “Where did you find this?”
“Noah pressed it.”
“I didn’t,” Noah protested immediately.
“It was on the hockey video.”
You looked at Miles, his expression was troubled in a way no six-year-old’s face should have been “What did you hear?” He shrugged, but his eyes stayed on the dark screen “Miles.”
He hesitated “The lady said Dad doesn’t want to be married anymore.”
Your chest tightened so sharply it almost hurt “That isn’t true.”
“She said people think he’s going to leave before his birthday.”
“No.” You crouched in front of him. “Dad is not leaving.”
“Because you got old?” The question broke something inside you, you stared at your son. Miles shifted anxiously “They said you look old now because you had us.”
You could barely breathe “No, sweetheart.”
“Did we make you old?”
“No.”
“Did Jude?”
“No.” Your voice cracked. “None of you did anything.”
Miles’s lower lip trembled “Dad still likes you?”
You pulled him into your arms “Dad loves me.”
“Then why did the lady say that?”
You closed your eyes. Because cruelty earned attention, because strangers forgot there were real families behind photographs, because people who had never met you believed they were entitled to explain your marriage to your children.
You couldn’t tell him any of that “Sometimes people on the internet say things that aren’t true,” you whispered. “They see one picture and make up a story.”
Miles leaned back “So Dad isn’t leaving?”
“No.”
“Promise?”
You forced yourself to answer immediately “Promise.”
But after sending him to school, you went upstairs and cried in the bathroom. Not because you truly believed Josh was going to leave.
Not entirely.
You cried because the rumor had reached your child, Miles was six years old, and someone had made him wonder whether he and his brothers had ruined their mother. You sat on the floor between the bathtub and vanity, pressing your sleeve against your mouth so Noah wouldn’t hear you.
That was where Josh found you.
Practice had ended early, but you hadn’t heard him come home. He appeared in the doorway still wearing his team sweats, his hair damp from the shower at the arena.
His face changed instantly “What happened?”
You wiped your cheeks “Nothing.” Josh stepped inside and closed the door behind him “You’re sitting on the bathroom floor crying.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“I just had a bad morning.”
He crouched in front of you “Did something happen with the boys?” Your silence made his expression sharpen “Are they okay?”
“They’re fine.”
“Then what happened?”
You looked down at your hands, Josh reached for you, but you shifted away before he could touch your face. His hand stopped in midair, the hurt in his expression made you feel worse “You’ve been doing that all week,” he said quietly.
“Doing what?”
“Moving away from me.”
“I haven’t.”
“You have.”
He sat on the floor across from you “You won’t change in front of me. You pretend to sleep when I touch you. You barely spoke to me at breakfast yesterday.” His voice softened. “Now I come home and find you crying. Tell me what’s going on.”
You wanted to, instead, embarrassment rose in your throat “It’s stupid.”
“Let me decide that.”
You shook your head.
Josh watched you for a moment “Did I do something?”
“No.”
“Are you unhappy?”
The fear behind the question made you look at him “What?”
“Are you unhappy with me?”
“No.”
“Then help me understand.”
You drew a shaky breath “Miles saw one of the videos.”
Josh frowned “What video?”
You told him.
You explained the post, the comments, the poll, and the way the rumor had spread. You told him how Miles had asked whether his father still liked you, you did not intend to tell Josh the rest.
But once you started speaking, everything came out “They keep saying I wasted my twenties,” you whispered. “That I had three kids too young and now I look older than you.”
Josh’s jaw tightened “They’re idiots.”
“But I do look different.”
“Of course you look different. It’s been seven years" You flinched, he noticed immediately “That didn’t come out right.”
“It came out honestly.”
“No, it came out badly.”
You stood from the floor, Josh rose with you.
“I know I don’t look the same,” you said. “I don’t need you to pretend.”
“I’m not pretending.”
“You don’t have to protect my feelings.”
“I’m not protecting your feelings. I’m telling you the truth.”
You turned toward the mirror. Your eyes were swollen from crying. Your hair was twisted into a loose bun. There was a small stain on the shoulder of your shirt “I look exhausted.”
“You are exhausted.”
“You’re not helping.”
“I’m saying you’re exhausted because Jude still wakes twice a night and you refuse to wake me when I have practice.”
“You need to sleep.”
“So do you.”
“That isn’t the point.”
“Then tell me what the point is.”
You looked at him through the mirror “The point is that I don’t feel like the woman you married anymore.”
Josh went quiet,you folded your arms over your stomach “She was fun. She traveled with you. She wore dresses without worrying whether anything showed. She didn’t spend every conversation talking about school schedules and pediatric appointments.”
“She also couldn’t cook.”
You turned sharply “Josh.”
“I’m trying to lighten the mood.”
“This isn’t funny.”
His expression softened “I know.”
You looked down “People keep saying you’ll leave me for someone younger.”
“You are younger.”
“That isn’t what they mean.”
“I know.”
“What happens when you turn thirty-five and realize you’re married to someone who already feels fifty?”
Josh stared at you, then he walked forward and gently took your wrists, uncrossing your arms from your stomach “Look at me.” You resisted for a moment before raising your eyes “I am turning thirty-five,” he said. “Not losing my mind.”
You said nothing.
“I’m not waiting for my birthday to suddenly discover I have a wife and three children.”
“They think you look miserable.”
“I was miserable in that picture.” Your throat tightened, Josh squeezed your hands before you could pull away “Because your mom called to say Jude had been crying for forty minutes, the photographer was blocking the car, and I knew you were blaming yourself for leaving the house.”
“Oh.”
“I wasn’t miserable because of you.” You looked away, Josh stepped closer “And I didn’t marry the twenty-one-year-old version of you because I wanted her to stay exactly the same forever.”
His thumbs brushed over your wrists “I married you because I wanted to change with you.”
Your eyes burned.
“The woman I met at twenty-one didn’t know how to calm a newborn while half asleep. She didn’t know every dinosaur Miles has ever mentioned. She hadn’t learned that Noah will eat carrots if you call them orange fries.”
A tear slipped down your cheek, Josh released one of your hands to wipe it away “She hadn’t held my hand in a hospital room while doctors rushed Jude into surgery.”
Your breath caught.
“She hadn’t built this home. She hadn’t made me a dad.”
“You did part of that.”
“A very small part.”
Despite yourself, a weak laugh escaped.
Josh’s mouth lifted slightly “There you are .”
You shook your head, he cupped your face “You didn’t waste your twenties.” His voice was firm now “You lived them. You loved me through surgeries, trades, road trips, losses, and every mood I’ve ever brought home after a bad game. You had three beautiful boys because we both wanted them. You built a career around our family. You made friends in every city hockey dragged us through.”
His forehead touched yours “And you’re twenty-eight. You have plenty of twenties left.”
“I only have two years.”
“Then we’ll make them irresponsible.” You laughed through your tears “I’m serious. We’ll stay out past ten.”
“That is irresponsible for us.”
“We might even order dessert.”
“We always order dessert.”
“Exactly. Wild.”
Your smile faded again “But Miles heard it.”
Josh’s expression hardened “I know.”
“He asked whether they made me old.”
The anger in Josh’s eyes became unmistakable “They?”
“The boys.”
He stepped back and dragged a hand over his jaw “He thinks this is his fault?”
“I told him it wasn’t.”
“But he heard it.”
“Yes.”
Josh paced once across the bathroom, you had seen him angry many times. On the ice, his anger was immediate and physical, at home, it was quieter. More controlled and somehow, that was more intimidating “Where’s the video?”
“I deleted it from the tablet.”
“Find it.”
“Josh.”
“Find it.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“That usually means something terrible.”
“I’m not going to fight someone.”
“You sound disappointed about that.”
“I am.” You found the clip through your own phone and handed it to him, he watched the entire thing.
His face remained expressionless until the host repeated the claim that having three children had “aged” you and suggested Josh might be reconsidering the marriage as he approached thirty-five.
Then his jaw flexed. At the end of the video, he handed the phone back “Who is she?”
“A reporter for one of those entertainment channels.”
“Does she come to games?”
“Sometimes.”
Josh nodded once, you knew that look “No.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You’re going to.”
“She talked about our marriage like it was entertainment.”
“That’s what those channels do.”
“She involved our kids.”
“She probably didn’t know Miles would see it.”
“She put it online.”
You reached for his arm “Please don’t make this bigger.”
Josh looked at you “It’s already big enough that our six-year-old thinks I’m leaving.”
You had no response.
That evening, Josh sat with Miles in his bedroom, you remained in the hallway at first, listening while pretending to fold laundry. Miles was sitting beneath his Avalanche blanket, holding one of his stuffed animals.
Josh sat on the edge of the bed “Mom said you saw something online today.”
Miles looked nervous “It came on Noah’s video.”
“You’re not in trouble.”
“I didn’t look for it.”
“I know.”
Miles picked at the stuffed animal’s ear “Are you leaving?”
Josh’s shoulders dropped “No.”
“Even when you’re thirty-five?”
“Especially then.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll need Mom to remind me where I put everything.”
Miles smiled slightly, Josh leaned forward “I’m not leaving mommy buddy, I love her.”
“The lady said you don’t.”
“The lady doesn’t know me.”
“She said Mom looks old because of us.”
Josh’s face tightened “Your mom doesn’t look old.”
“She said—”
“I know what she said.” Josh’s voice softened. “She was wrong.”
Miles watched him carefully “Did we make Mom tired?”
“Yes.” Your mouth fell open in the hallway, Josh continued before you could interrupt “You made both of us tired. You used to wake up every two hours and scream.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.” Miles smiled.
“But being tired isn’t bad,” Josh explained. “Sometimes it means you worked hard at something important.”
“Like hockey?”
“Exactly. Or being a mom.”
Miles considered this “So Mom isn’t sad she had us?”
“No.” Josh glanced toward the doorway, clearly aware you were there. “Mom would choose all three of you again.”
“Even Noah?”
“Probably.”
“Daddy.”
“I’m kidding.”
Miles giggled.
Josh tucked the blanket around him “And nobody gets to tell you things about our family that Mommy and I haven’t told you ourselves. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“If you see another video like that, you bring it to us.”
“Are you going to yell at the lady?”
Josh paused “No.” You released a relieved breath “I’m going to speak very calmly and make her wish I had yelled.” You closed your eyes, Miles grinned.
The opportunity came sooner than you expected.
Two nights later, you attended a home game with the boys, you considered staying home.
The idea of cameras made your stomach twist, but Miles had been asking to watch Josh play all week. Noah wanted popcorn, and Jude had recently become fascinated with the arena lights.
You refused to let the rumor take those moments away from them, you wore jeans, boots, and one of the play-offs jacket. Before leaving, you stood in front of the bedroom mirror and nearly changed three times.
Josh came up behind you “You look good.”
“You have to say that.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You do if you want somewhere to sleep tonight.”
Josh placed both hands on your hips “I’m serious.” You looked at him through the mirror, His gaze didn’t move away “You look like my wife.”
You swallowed “Is that supposed to be romantic?”
“To me it is.” He kissed the side of your head before heading downstairs to help Miles find his gloves.
The game went well.
The avalanche won, Miles cheered until his voice became hoarse, Noah spilled half a bucket of popcorn onto the floor, and Jude fell asleep against your chest halfway through the third period.
For several hours, you forgot about the internet.
After the game, you waited with the boys near the family area while Josh finished media availability. Miles and Noah were playing with Gabe’s kids. Jude remained asleep in your arms.
A reporter approached you, you recognized her immediately. She was the woman from the video.
Your entire body went tense.
She smiled as though she hadn’t publicly speculated about the end of your marriage two days earlier “YN, could I ask you a quick question?”
“No.”
Her smile faltered.
“It will only take a second.”
“I’m here with my children.”
“It’s actually about the recent conversation online.”
You adjusted Jude against your chest “I’m sorry but i'm not interested.”
She stepped closer “Would you at least like to address the rumors that you and Josh are experiencing marital problems?”
Miles stopped playing, your eyes moved toward him. The reporter followed your gaze but continued anyway “Some fans have expressed concern after recent photographs—”
“Concern?” Josh’s voice came from behind her, the reporter turned. He was still wearing part of his suit from the game, his tie loosened and his hair damp. His expression was calm, far too calm “Josh,” she said brightly. “I was hoping to ask you—”
“No.” She blinked, he moved to stand beside you and placed one hand against the back of your neck “You don’t get to ask my wife anything.”
“I was only giving her an opportunity to respond.”
“To something you created.”
The reporter’s smile became strained “We reported on public speculation.”
“You started the speculation.”
“The photograph raised questions.”
“It was a picture of us leaving dinner.”
“You appeared unhappy.”
“My one-year-old was crying at home.” She hesitated, Josh continued “You took a picture of my wife on her birthday, compared her body to what she looked like seven years ago, and invited strangers to vote on whether I would leave her.”
“I didn’t personally create the poll.”
“You shared it.”
The reporter glanced toward the other people beginning to watch “This may not be the right setting—”
“You approached her while she was holding our son.” Your hand tightened around Jude, Josh’s voice never rose. That made every word land harder “Our six-year-old saw your video.”
The reporter’s expression changed
“He asked whether his brothers made his mom old. Then he asked whether I was leaving them.”
“I’m sorry he saw it, but content online—”
“No.” Josh stepped slightly closer “You don’t get to apologize that he saw it. You apologize for making it.”
She stared at him “I understand you’re upset.”
“I’m not upset because someone criticized me. That comes with my job. I’m upset because you decided my wife’s face, body, age, and motherhood were appropriate entertainment.”
You felt tears threatening again.
Josh’s hand remained steady against your neck “You don’t know her,” he continued. “You don’t know what she has sacrificed for this family. You don’t know what she survived bringing our youngest into the world. And you definitely don’t know anything about my marriage.”
The reporter looked toward her camera operator, clearly wanting the exchange to end.
Josh didn’t give her the chance to redirect it “You wanted an answer to the rumor?” He looked directly at the camera “Here it is. I love my wife. I’m not leaving her at thirty-five, forty-five, or any other age. The only people who damaged anything were the adults who made my six-year-old question whether his family was safe.”
Silence settled around the hallway.
Josh looked back at the reporter “Don’t approach my wife or children again.” then he took Jude from your arms, called Miles and Noah over, and led all of you away.
You remained silent until you reached the parking garage.
Noah was talking excitedly about the popcorn, Miles kept looking at Josh with obvious admiration. Jude slept through everything. Once the boys were buckled into the car, you stood beside the passenger door and stared at Josh.
“What?”
“You confronted her.”
“She confronted you.”
“You knew cameras were recording.”
“Good.”
“Josh.”
He stepped closer “What?”
“That clip is going to be everywhere.”
“Then maybe people will finally repeat something true.”
You looked at him for a long moment “You said you weren’t going to yell.”
“I didn’t.”
“You were terrifying.”
“I was polite.”
“You told her she damaged our child.”
“She did.” His expression softened when he saw yours “Are you angry?”
“No.”
“Embarrassed?”
“A little.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re not.”
“Not even slightly.” You laughed quietly, Josh placed both hands around your waist. The parking garage was cold, and you could hear the boys arguing inside the car over who had cheered louder.
“You didn’t have to do that,” you said.
“Yes, I did.”
“You could have ignored it.”
“I tried ignoring it, then it reached our house.” He looked down at you “I can take people talking about me. I’m used to it. But I’m not going to stand there while someone makes you feel ashamed of the life we built.”
Your eyes burned “I do feel ashamed sometimes.”
Josh’s brow furrowed “Of us?”
“Of myself.”
His hands tightened slightly.
You looked away “I know you tell me I’m beautiful. I know you love me. But sometimes I look at old pictures and miss her.”
“The old you?”
You nodded.
“She looked rested.”
“She didn’t have Jude.”
“She was smaller.”
“She didn’t have Jude.”
“She went out.”
“She didn’t have Jude.”
You gave him an annoyed look “Are you blaming everything on the baby?”
“I love him, but yes.” A laugh escaped you, Josh smiled, then became serious again “You’re allowed to miss parts of your old life.”
“I am?”
“Yes.”
“But I chose this.”
“You can choose something and still find it hard.”
You stared at him “Being their mom doesn’t mean you stop being a person,” he said. “And being my wife doesn’t mean you have to be grateful every second or never struggle with what changed.” His thumb brushed against your side “But you need to tell me when you feel like this.”
“I didn’t want you to think I regretted the boys.”
“I would never think that.”
“What if I regret things sometimes?”
“Like what?”
“My body. How tired I am. Not having more time for myself.”
Josh nodded “Then we work on those things.”
“You can’t fix everything.”
“No. But I can wake up with Jude. I can take the boys out so you get time alone. We can find someone to help more when I’m traveling.”
You started to protest, He gave you a look “You don’t get a medal for doing everything until you fall apart.”
“I wasn’t falling apart.”
“You were crying between the toilet and bathtub.”
“That was one time.”
“That I know about.” You looked down, Josh tilted your chin upward “I should’ve noticed sooner.”
“You were working.”
“I’m still your husband.” His expression carried guilt now “You stopped letting me touch you, and I let myself believe you were just tired.”
“I was tired.”
“You were also hurting.”
You leaned into him “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Believing them.”
Josh wrapped his arms around you “You don’t owe me an apology for getting hurt.”
“I knew it wasn’t true.”
“Knowing doesn’t make you bulletproof.” You rested your cheek against his chest, Inside the car, Noah pressed his face to the window “Daddy!”
Josh didn’t release you “What?”
“Are we going home?”
“Eventually.”
“I’m hungry.”
“You ate enough popcorn to feed the team buddy.”
“I need dinner.”
Josh sighed against your hair “This is what aged us.” You laughed so loudly Miles joined in without knowing why.
The confrontation clip spread online before you arrived home, this time, the response was overwhelmingly supportive.
People criticized the reporter. Fans shared photographs of Josh looking at you during games and family events. Other mothers wrote about feeling unrecognizable after having children.
Women you had never met sent messages saying they had also struggled when motherhood changed their bodies and identities.
But you didn’t read much of it, Josh took your phone when he noticed you opening the applications “Positive comments are still comments,” he said.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does to me.” He turned off your notifications and placed the phone on top of the refrigerator
“You know I can reach that.”
“I know. But it makes my point dramatic.”
The next morning, he posted a photograph, it wasn’t from your birthday dinner or the game. It was a picture that your mom had taken several weeks earlier.
You were sitting on the kitchen floor in an oversized sweatshirt, your hair in a messy bun. Jude was asleep against your chest. Noah was stretched across your lap, attempting to reach a bowl of strawberries, while Miles stood beside you wearing Josh’s helmet backward.
You had no makeup on. There were toys everywhere, you looked tired but you also looked happy.
The caption read:
My wife turned twenty-eight last week. We met seven years ago, and she doesn’t look exactly the same now. Neither do I.
Since then, she has moved cities, built a home with me, supported my career, survived three pregnancies, and raised three boys who think she is the center of the world. She has changed because our life changed.
She didn’t lose herself by becoming a mother, and our children didn’t take anything away from her. They added to who she already was.
I loved her at twenty-one. I love her at twenty-eight. I’ll love the woman she becomes at thirty-five, fifty, and every age after that.
The internet saw one photograph. I get the whole life. I know which one I’d choose.
Comments were disabled. When you found the post, Josh was in the kitchen making breakfast “You posted me in my worst sweatshirt.”
He glanced over his shoulder “You love that sweatshirt.”
“It has bleach stains.”
“It has character.”
“My hair looks terrible.”
“You look beautiful.”
“You always say that.”
“Because you keep being beautiful.” You walked toward him, he set down the spatula and opened his arms before you reached him. You tucked yourself against his chest “What are you making?”
“Pancakes.”
You looked into the pan “They’re burning.”
“They’re caramelizing.”
“Josh.”
“I’m defending my family and making breakfast. I can’t do everything.” Miles came running into the kitchen “Dad, Noah took my dinosaur!”
“I didn’t take it!” Noah shouted from the hallway.
“You’re holding it!”
“It likes me!”
Jude began crying through the baby monitor, Josh closed his eyes. You started laughing, He looked down at you “What?”
“Nothing.”
You shook your head and reached for the monitor, Josh caught your wrist “I’ll get him.”
“You’re cooking.”
“I’m burning things. There’s a difference.” He kissed you and headed toward the stairs. At the bottom step, he turned back “And for the record?”
You raised an eyebrow.
“Twenty-eight looks really good on you.”
You smiled “Thirty-five might look good on you too.”
“Might?”
“We’ll see.” Josh placed a hand over his heart as though wounded, then went upstairs to get Jude.
The rumor did not disappear immediately, the internet rarely admitted when it was wrong. But it stopped controlling the way you saw yourself.
You still had difficult days.
Days when nothing in your closet fit the way you wanted, days when motherhood felt less like a gift and more like an endless list of people who needed something from you. Days when you missed the freedom you had at twenty-one.
But when those thoughts became too loud, you told Josh.
Sometimes he reassured you, sometimes he took all three boys out for several hours and returned looking as though he had personally survived a natural disaster, sometimes he simply sat beside you without trying to fix anything.
A week after the confrontation, you found Miles drawing at the kitchen table.
There were five stick figures, one tall figure holding a hockey stick, one figure with long hair. Three smaller figures between them “Is that us?” you asked.
Miles nodded, he pointed toward the figure representing you “That’s you.”
“I guessed.”
“You’re not old.”
You smiled “Thank you baby”
“You’re twenty-eight.”
“I am.”
“That’s kind of old.”
Your mouth fell open, Miles grinned “But Dad is older.”
“Much older.”
Josh walked into the room carrying Jude “I heard that.” Miles laughed and ran away, Josh looked at the drawing “What’s this?”
“Our family.”
He shifted Jude higher on his hip “Why am I so much taller than everyone?”
“Your ego.” He gave you an unimpressed look.
You took the drawing from the table and examined it again, the figure representing you had an enormous smile. There were three children around your legs and Josh beside you.
Josh came to stand behind you, wrapping his free arm around your waist “You okay?” he asked. You leaned back against him, for the first time in days, the answer felt completely true “Yeah.”
He kissed your temple.
“You sure?” You looked at the uneven stick figures, the baby on Josh’s hip, and the three bowls still sitting in the sink from breakfast.
You were not the same woman you had been at twenty-one. You were tired, changed. Softer in places and stronger in others.
You were twenty-eight years old, married to a man approaching thirty-five, with three loud little boys who had transformed every part of your life and none of that made you less worthy of being loved. It only meant you had lived.
“I’m sure,” you said.
