Invisible String

43

“Is she gonna be okay?”

“She’s already getting better,” I promised. “She’s strong.”

“Like me?”

“Exactly like you,” I smiled.

Mira stirred a little, then opened her eyes halfway. And just like that, she gave me the faintest, tired smile.

That was all I needed.

I kissed her forehead, and with one hand rubbing her back, I finally let myself lean into the pillows. Travis turned off the light and climbed in next to Lily, who was already snoring softly.

“I’ll stay on the edge,” he whispered with a grin.

“No, you won’t,” I said, too tired to fight it. “You’re going to end up diagonal again like you always do.”

“Guess we’re all snuggling tonight.”

I didn’t say anything, just nodded as Mira shifted against my chest, still holding on.

And in the dark, with all of us tangled up in one room, I finally felt like we were going to be okay.

The room was quiet, the kind of silence you only get in the deep hours of the night when the world outside is still. Mira’s breathing had evened out, slow and steady, her little fingers still curled into the neckline of my shirt. I couldn’t bring myself to move her—wasn’t ready to let her go, even just to the bassinet next to the bed.

Travis’s hand found mine in the dark, his thumb brushing across my knuckles. “You want me to try to move her?” he whispered.

I shook my head, then realized he couldn’t see me. “No. I just… I need her close right now.”

Lily shifted on the other side of him, mumbling something in her sleep about snowmen and cookies. Travis smiled.

“You’re never gonna believe me,” he whispered, “but I think this is one of my favorite nights.”

I let out a quiet laugh. “The baby has a fever, no one’s in their own bed, and I haven’t eaten all day.”

“Exactly,” he said. “But we’re all here. Together.”

I rested my head against the pillow, eyes closing slowly. I was so tired I could cry, but for the first time in hours, the weight on my chest wasn’t anxiety—it was Mira, warm and safe.

“You think this gets easier with the next kid?” I asked sleepily.

Travis let out a low laugh. “Oh, so now we’re talking next kid?”

I smiled, barely able to keep my eyes open. “Don’t get excited. I’m just asking.”

He didn’t say anything right away, just squeezed my hand gently.

A few minutes passed, the kind where you slip between waking and dreaming. Then I felt Mira shift slightly in my arms, a soft sound coming from her lips that wasn’t quite a cry—more like a sigh.

“I think she’s okay now,” I whispered.

“She’s okay because of you.”

“No,” I said, finally allowing myself to sink back. “She’s okay because of us.”

And with that, the room went still again, wrapped in warmth and blankets and the quiet thrum of love, exhaustion, and the kind of peace that only comes after surviving the storm.

The morning light crept in through the curtains, soft and golden. I blinked my eyes open slowly, instantly aware of the scratch in my throat and the heaviness in my head. I sniffled, trying not to groan, but that didn’t stop Travis from noticing.