Invisible String

14

I heard soft footsteps coming down the hall, and then Lily’s little voice.

“Mama?”

I looked up to see her rubbing her eyes, her curls a mess from naptime, her stuffed bear clutched tight in her arms. Travis sat up straighter, trying to wipe the stress off his face, but it was too late.

Lily blinked at us, her little brows scrunching. “Why you sad?”

I swallowed hard, trying to find the words. “Oh, baby… Mama and Daddy are just… tired. That’s all.”

She looked between the two of us, not buying it for a second. “Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

“No, no, sweetheart.” Travis stood and knelt down in front of her, scooping her up into his arms. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re perfect.”

“But Mira’s here and you cryin’,” she mumbled against his shoulder. “You ‘posed to be happy.”

That’s what broke me.

I covered my mouth with my free hand as the tears spilled. I didn’t want her to think love was pain. I didn’t want her to feel responsible for something she couldn’t understand.

Travis held Lily tighter, swaying just slightly like he used to when she was an infant. “Sometimes grown-ups have to fix really big problems, and it makes us feel a little sad. But it’s never because of you, okay? We love you so much.”

She peeked over his shoulder at me. “Even when you cry?”

I nodded quickly, voice cracking. “Even especially then.”

“Okay,” she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder, her eyes already starting to close again.

And just like that—somehow—her innocence grounded us. She didn’t know about court dates or custody hearings or broken promises.

All she knew was love. And we were going to fight to make sure that’s all she ever had to know.

Between all the mess and the endless calls with lawyers, one very important detail kept me grounded—Lily was about to turn three. And no matter what was happening with Emma, the court dates, or the fear clawing at her chest, I refused to let it overshadow our daughter’s day.

So I threw herself into planning it. Just something small, intimate. Family only. But somehow that still meant a house full of people.

My parents flew in first, bringing with them a cake from my favorite childhood bakery. My brother came the next day, offering an extra set of hands and a much-needed distraction. Travis’s parents showed up the morning of the party, arms full of gifts and warm hugs. Then came Jason and Kylie with their wild bunch: Wyatt, Elliott, Bennett, and little Finnley, who was immediately drawn to Mira like she was some kind of baby magnet.

The house buzzed with energy, kids running around the backyard chasing bubbles, balloons drifting up to the ceiling, and I was standing in the kitchen frosting cupcakes with pink and purple swirls while Mira sat nearby in her high chair, fascinated by the colorful chaos.

Lily twirled around in the sparkly dress she picked out herself—“Because I’m a princess now, Mama”—and even though the stress never fully left my shoulders, watching my daughter beam with joy helped melt the heaviness, if only for a moment.

Wyatt followed Lily around like a shadow, asking question after question and pointing out every decoration like she was trying to memorize it. Elliott and Bennett challenged Travis to a game of tag outside, dragging Jason into it like they always did. Kylie, bless her, helped keep things moving, filling sippy cups and doling out snacks like a party-planning machine.