Page 21 of The Edge Of Us

He giggled, his bright blue eyes sparkling. “Mommy, play!”

I smiled, placing him on the floor as he ran to grab his favorite stuffed lion. He shoved it toward me with a determined look. “Roar, Mommy!”

I took the plush toy and made the most dramatic roar I could muster. Kyle shrieked in delight, clapping his tiny hands. In these moments, everything felt normal. No accusations. No coldness from Allen. Just me and my son, wrapped in the safety of our little world.

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Months passed, and the growing weight in my stomach made it difficult to move with the same ease I once had. The distance between Allen and me had only widened. His touches were rare, and when they came, they lacked warmth. They weren’t for me.He sought his own pleasure, his own release, leaving me feeling emptier than before.

I stopped trying to reach him. I stopped asking him to sit with me at night, stopped trying to pull him into conversations. Instead, I focused on preparing for the arrival of my baby girl.

And then, one cold evening, as I sat curled up on the couch with Kyle nestled against my belly, the first sharp pain tore through me.

I gasped, gripping the couch cushion. Kyle looked up at me, his little face scrunched in confusion. “Mommy?”

Another wave of pain hit me, stronger this time. My breath hitched as I struggled to push myself up. “Baby, go get Nana,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady.

Kyle’s eyes widened before he scampered off down the hallway. Moments later, my mother rushed in, her face filled with concern. “Corinne?”

“The baby,” I managed between breaths. “She’s coming.”

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The hospital room was a blur of movement, bright lights, and voices urging me to push. My body trembled, sweat clinging to my skin as I gritted my teeth. The pain was unbearable, but I held onto one thought—I had to bring her into this world.

Allen was there, standing stiffly beside me, his fingers gripping mine. At first, his touch felt hesitant, uncertain, but as my cries of pain grew louder, his grip tightened. He whispered encouragements, his voice raw, filled with an emotion I hadn't heard in a long time.

“One more push, Corinne! You’re almost there!” the doctor urged.

With one final, agonizing cry, I bore down, and then—silence. A second later, a sharp wail filled the air, and tears spilled down my cheeks.

“She’s here,” someone announced.

My chest heaved as I watched them place my baby girl on my chest. She was so tiny, her delicate features scrunched in protest at the cold air. I traced a trembling finger down her cheek, my heart swelling. “Astrid Raya Woods,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “My beautiful girl.”

A sob broke the silence beside me. I turned, startled, to see Allen wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. His shoulders shook as he exhaled a ragged breath, his gaze locked onto our daughter.

“She’s perfect,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “God, Corinne, she’s perfect.”

I had never seen Allen cry before. Not at our wedding, not even when Kyle was born. But here he was, completely undone, his walls shattering in the presence of his daughter. For the first time in a long time, he looked at me—not with indifference, not with exhaustion, but with something real. Something raw.

He reached out, his large hand trembling as he cupped Astrid’s tiny head. She let out a soft coo, and Allen let out a breathless laugh, as if he couldn’t believe she was real. He pressed his lips against her forehead, his tears falling freely now.

In that moment, everything was forgotten. The silence, the distance, the cold nights spent apart. For just a fleeting second, we were a family again.

But reality had a way of creeping back in. And as I watched Allen cradle our daughter like she was the most precious thing in theworld, a part of me wondered—was this a new beginning, or just a beautiful moment before the inevitable fall?

Chapter 15

Corine

The day had started like any other, but something inside me felt wrong. The weight in my chest was heavier, the whispers in my mind louder. It had been a month since I was discharged, but the darkness had never truly left me. It lingered in the corners of my mind, waiting for the perfect moment to creep in and drag me under. And today, it won.

I paced the living room, hands gripping my hair as I struggled to make sense of my own thoughts. They were fragmented, jumbled together like a broken mirror reflecting different realities. My breathing was erratic, my vision blurring with unshed tears. Astrid’s cries from her nursery barely registered. The walls felt like they were closing in, the floor beneath me tilting.

“Corinne, you need to calm down,” Allen’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and unforgiving.

“Calm down?” I laughed, but it sounded foreign even to my own ears. “Do you know what it’s like to not trust your own mind? To feel like you’re drowning and no one is even reaching out a hand to pull you up?”

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