Invisible String

19

It had been a month since court ended.

A month since we walked out of that courtroom and knew Mira was ours. Not temporarily. Not maybe. Ours. The papers were signed. The drama was behind us—at least most of it. My body still tensed sometimes when my phone buzzed, like maybe Emma would pop back up with some kind of new mess, but so far... nothing.

And now we were home. Like really home.

I was back in the studio a couple days a week, sneaking in hours while Mira napped in a little portable crib and Lily colored quietly at the corner table. Gracie came by often and took turns bouncing Mira while helping me with vocal harmonies, and Travis—God bless him—had fully stepped into his girl dad era, walking around with hair clips in his hair like it was nothing.

That morning, I sat at the kitchen counter with my laptop open, a mug of lukewarm coffee beside me, and my hair half up in a scrunchie that had definitely seen better days. Mira was in her bouncer on the floor, legs kicking as she cooed at the hanging toys. Lily was at her little table next to the window, fiercely committed to gluing googly eyes to a construction paper bunny.

Travis was at practice.

And I... was tired.

Like deep in-my-bones kind of tired, but there was also this weird buzz under my skin—something like contentment mixed with the ache of knowing this is just what life is now. Every moment layered on the last, nothing perfectly clean or quiet or linear. Just full. And beautiful.

My phone buzzed again. Group chat.

Gracie:
“How’s my favorite little milk monster today? I mean Mira. But also you.

I smiled, snapped a photo of Mira mid-kick and sent it.

Me:
“Kicking like a mule. I think she’s trying to join Travis’s team.”

Gracie:
“Dream big, baby girl.”

Lily suddenly climbed into my lap, resting her head against my chest like she’d had the longest morning of her toddler life.

“Mama,” she mumbled. “You smell like pancakes.”

I blinked. “I haven’t made pancakes.”

She looked up at me like I was the one who was confused. “Yeah, but you smell like them.”

I kissed the top of her head. “I think that’s a compliment?”

She shrugged. “Can we go to the park when Daddy gets home?”

I nodded. “If it’s warm enough, for sure.”

Mira let out a tiny shriek from the bouncer like she agreed, and I leaned back in my chair, feeling this moment stretch out around me. A quiet morning. A clingy toddler. A baby who just learned to grab toys and now wouldn’t stop. No courtrooms. No drama. Just life.

---

The sun was out, finally, after what felt like a week of clouds and drizzle. Travis had come home from practice and practically begged us to get some fresh air. Mira was already bundled and fed, and Lily had her sneakers on before I even finished saying the word “park.”

We picked a quieter one a few blocks from the apartment—less crowded, more local families, fewer paparazzi. Or at least, that was the hope.

I should’ve known better.

The second we walked up, I felt the buzz. That subtle shift in the air, the too-casual way a woman on a bench lifted her phone. Travis shifted Mira’s car seat to the crook of his arm and pressed a kiss to her head, shielding her like he always did. I glanced at Lily, who was skipping ahead in her bright yellow hoodie and rainbow leggings, completely oblivious.