Invisible String

2

“Hey,” he breathed, voice cracking. “No. Don’t do that. You don’t ever get to blame yourself. Not for this.”

I cried until my body gave out, exhausted and hollow.

We didn’t talk about next steps that night. We just held each other, quiet and broken, in the dark.

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The house smelled like cinnamon, pine, and safety — the kind of warmth that only existed at Mom’s during the holidays. The fireplace crackled softly behind the tree, stockings were hung, and classic Christmas music played low in the background. I should’ve felt joy, or at least peace.

But I felt tired. Empty in a way no amount of sugar cookies or twinkling lights could fix.

Travis sat beside me on the couch, his hand resting quietly over mine as we both watched my brother Austin and my dad, Scott, argue good-naturedly over who ruined the gravy. Mom — Andrea — laughed and handed out mugs of cider like everything was perfectly normal.

And maybe it was. For them.

“Dinner should be ready in twenty,” she called, beaming at us like she’d been waiting all year for this moment. Her eyes landed on me, her smile flickering just a little. “You okay, honey?”

I opened my mouth to lie. To say fine or just tired. But something cracked inside of me.

“Actually…” I started, my voice suddenly hoarse. “Can I… can I say something first?”

Austin stopped mid-sip of cider. My dad sat up straighter. Mom crossed the room and sat in the armchair closest to me, eyes softening in that quiet, all-knowing mom way.

I looked at Travis, and he nodded once — gentle and reassuring.

“We’ve been doing IVF,” I said, letting the words fall like stones. “Since the spring.”

The room fell still.

“I didn’t want to say anything earlier because it felt… too personal, or maybe too painful,” I went on, forcing myself to keep going, “but I can’t pretend anymore. It’s been almost a year now. My hormone levels aren’t cooperating. They told me I had a low chance from the start, but we tried anyway. We tried hard.”

Andrea’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes already filling with tears. Scott’s jaw clenched. Austin looked stunned, quiet for once.

Travis squeezed my hand tighter. “She’s been a warrior,” he said, looking around the room like he wanted them to understand the full weight of what I’d carried. “Through all of it.”

I blinked fast, willing the tears not to come again — not now. “I just… I didn’t want you to think we weren’t trying. Or that we didn’t want this. We do. So much.”

Mom stood and knelt beside me on the floor, wrapping her arms around me like she used to when I was little and scared of thunder. “Oh, baby,” she whispered. “I wish you’d told me. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

“I didn’t know how,” I admitted. “I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. I didn’t want to admit it wasn’t working.”

“You could never disappoint us,” my dad said quietly, voice thick.

Austin cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. And for what it’s worth, I… I think you’re kind of badass for going through all of that.”

That made me laugh — just barely — but it broke the tension. I wiped at my face, trying not to ruin my mascara before dinner.

“I don’t know what comes next,” I said honestly. “We’re still figuring that out. But I wanted you to know.”

Mom reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Whatever you decide, you have us. All of us.”