I watched the water stream down the pane, wondering how many more nights I could pace this room before my knees gave out.
At seven, the coffee maker began to drip, its bitter scent cutting through the heavy air of the downstairs hallway.
Ryan sat at the kitchen table, his thumb flicking rapidly across his phone screen while his breakfast plate sat empty beside him. He had already dressed in his blue button-down shirt, though his collar was still unbuttoned.
“Do you want me to scramble some eggs?” I asked, lifting the glass pot to pour his coffee.
“Just the coffee is fine,” he said, not looking up from the blue light of the screen. “The guys are texting in the group chat.”
I set his mug down, watching a small splash of dark liquid jump over the rim and pool on the white ceramic.
“Which group chat?” I asked.
“The high school crew,” Ryan said, his thumb stopping for a second. “They are talking about getting a weekend together before the weather turns.”
I stared at the back of his head, waiting for him to tell me he had told them he was too busy with three infants.
“A weekend where?” I asked.
“Just down at the lake, or maybe the coast,” he said, taking a sip of the hot coffee. “Nothing crazy. Just a couple of nights.”
“We have a pediatric appointment on Thursday morning,” I said, my voice dropping into that quiet, deliberate tone. “It is their six-month checkup.”
“I know when the appointment is, Shannon,” he said, his voice tightening as he set the mug down. “I do not need a calendar lesson.”
He stood up, carrying his mug toward the living room, leaving his empty plate on the table.
By ten, my mother, Clara, was sitting on the floor of the nursery, her cardigan collar tucked neatly under her chin as she sorted tiny socks.
“You look like you did not sleep a single hour, Shannon,” she said, her voice carrying that soft, steady authority she always used when she was worried.
“Luna was up at three, and Bodhi was coughing,” I said, folding a faded yellow sleep sack. “I feel like I am just a ghost moving things from one room to another.”
Clara stopped her hands, looking up at me with her brow furrowed.
