Chapter 3
The next several weeks blurred together.I pumped in parking lots before meetings, reheated leftovers while bouncing Onica on one hip, and answered Bradley’s endless dinosaur questions before I even managed to take my shoes off.
Carl, meanwhile, perfected one routine.
Sitting on the couch.
“Did you send out any applications today?” I asked one evening while stepping over another pile of laundry.
“I’m networking,” Carl answered without lifting his eyes from his phone.
“With whom?”
“People. It’s not something you’d understand, Nina.”
Like always, I let it pass.
The comments about Alice started as occasional remarks before becoming routine.
Over breakfast.
During coffee.
Even while I changed diapers.
“You should see Alice’s dance class videos,” Carl said one morning. “She dances beautifully, has an athletic body, and wears short skirts! And you?”
“That’s great for her,” I replied quietly while wiping applesauce from Bradley’s chin.
“You used to have that kind of energy.”
My hand stopped.
Bradley stared at me with wide eyes, applesauce still sitting on one eyebrow.
“Carl, I had a baby recently.”
“I’m just saying. Alice still finds time for her dance classes.”
“Alice is 28 and doesn’t have a newborn strapped to her chest.”
Carl only shrugged, as though I’d just proven his point.
That evening, I made one more attempt at having a real conversation.
“I need help around the house,” I said. “You’re home all day. I’m not asking for miracles. I’m asking for dishes.”
“I’m dealing with a lot right now.”
“So am I.”
“It’s different, Nina.”
“How?”
Carl never answered.
Instead, he reached for his phone, and once again I noticed him tilting the screen away before tapping it.
I convinced myself I was imagining things.
The little details kept piling up until they were impossible to ignore.
Before Steve and Alice came over, Carl actually showered.
Not just a quick rinse—a full routine, complete with the cologne he usually saved for anniversaries.
“Big plans?” I teased as he fussed with his collar.
“Just want to look decent.”
“You looked decent yesterday in gym shorts you haven’t washed in a week.”
“Very funny.”
During lunch, Carl insisted on driving Alice home because “Steve had that thing to get to.”
I didn’t remember Steve mentioning any plans.
Judging by the confused expression on my brother-in-law’s face, neither did he.
Across the table, Alice caught my eye and held my gaze just a little too long.
Later that afternoon, she texted me.
Not about Carl.
Just:
“How are you doing, really? I bought too much lasagna. Want me to drop some off?”
After that, she kept arriving with homemade meals.
She held Onica so I could eat while the food was still warm.
She asked genuine questions about my job and actually listened to the answers.
I kept expecting some hidden motive.
There never was one.
“You seem tired, Nina,” Alice said one afternoon while sitting on my kitchen floor as Bradley proudly showed off his dinosaur collection.
“I’m okay.”
“You don’t have to be okay with me.”
I nearly burst into tears.
I blamed the hormones.
That week, I decided to reclaim one tiny piece of myself.
One squat.
Just one.
The oatmeal was spinning in the microwave.
How hard could it be?
Apparently… very.
Something popped in my lower back, and I froze halfway down, arms stretched out like I was surrendering.
Bradley wandered into the kitchen, stared for a long moment, then tilted his head.
“Mommy, why are you stuck like a frog? Are you gonna hop?”
“No, sweetheart.”
“Can you hop?”
“Not currently, no.”
He accepted that answer, opened the refrigerator, grabbed a string cheese, and wandered away while I remained crouched beside the microwave.
I laughed until tears rolled down my face before carefully unfolding myself like an old lawn chair.
The highlight of my week had become my three-year-old comparing me to a frog.
That evening, Carl started again.
“Have you seen Alice? She’s literally the definition of beauty.”
May you like
I’d already noticed how often both Carl and Steve complimented Alice.
Even so, I kept my voice calm.
