Page 24 of Insidious

I shouldn’t have written that. It sounds more intimate than I meant it to be. But …

Luna cannot stand me anymore. She doesn’t even look me in the eye. And Chloe … she has been trying to support me, distracting me ever since Mum told her Luna has been distant recently. Sometimes, I think it would be easier if Mum didn’t come over and spill the details of our private life into Chloe’s ear.

I know they both mean well. They are worried. So, when Chloe told me she remembered the time when we were best friends in senior year, it just triggered something. I had this long, vivid dream of those first months before university when I only had to worry about hanging out with my mates, sneaking a beer, and dreaming of a bright future. At that moment, I wished I was back, that I didn’t need to worry about my wife no longer wanting me or that I had done something wrong and I had no way to make it right. I feel so useless. So, when Chloe suggested we have a beer with friends one evening, I relented. I needed the break. But she has been messaging me nonstop since, and I don’t know what to do about it without upsetting Mum.

Maybe that message made it worse. Maybe she didn’t see it. Guilt crawls up my throat as I remember all the reasons I divorced Chloe. Reasons Mum does not know.

I lock the phone and drop it onto the table like it’s burnt me, then lean forward and cover my face with my hands, pressing my palms hard into my eyes, as if that might undo what I’ve just done.

***

The night everything went to hell

Amelie is seven weeks old.

Seven weeks.

It feels like I’ve gained this fragile, perfect piece of joy … and lost my wife somewhere along the way.

The first fifteen days were good.

Or at least, manageable.

Paternity leave meant I could stay home, be present, learn the new normal—the diapers, the feeds, the strange, relentless cycle of night and day blurring into each other. That first day at the hospital, things seemed to look up once Luna’s parents arrived with Lily in tow. With Oliver and Nora there, the house felt safer, like we had a buffer. Something changed that first day in the hospital, and I felt like I was adrift with no land in sight.

Luna smiled more while her mum was here, helping her to get around, making her favourite meals, and just pampering her.

It was not like before, but I could pretend things were okay.

I think if her parents had stayed like they had planned to, things would have been different. But Oliver and Nora had to leave after a week.

A tree fell onto the roof of their house, and the repairs couldn’t wait.

I stood there and watched Luna hold her mother tightly.

“Come back soon,” she whispered, tears shining like tiny crystals on her impossibly thick, dark lashes.

“I will,” Nora promised, also in tears. “As soon as we sort things, I will be rushing back.”

Luna didn’t let go straight away. Even when Nora pulled back, she held on just a second longer, like she wasn’t ready to lose that support yet. I don’t know why, but that stayed with me.

Since they left, the house feels … different.

Something wakes me up. I have become a light sleeper ever since I read an article on sudden infant death syndrome.

There is just the faint shift of sheets. Amelie sleeps in her little crib by the side of the bed, her little lips moving as she dreams of her next meal.

I open my eyes and see Luna.

She’s turned halfway onto her side, moving slowly, carefully, like every inch costs her, her breath tight and controlled, and I realise with a sinking heart that she’s been trying to do this without waking me.

I push myself up immediately.

“Hey, hey, what are you doing?” I murmur, already reaching for her. “Let me help.”

“No … I’ve got it,” Luna says, but her voice is stiff with strain, like she’s holding something back.

My wife hasn’t got it. I can see that much.