Chapter Text
The baby's cries echoed through the small apartment, a sharp and relentless reminder of the fragile life they all shared. Vi sat on the edge of the worn couch, fingers nervously twisting the hem of her shirt as she stared toward the nursery door. The soft glow of the baby monitor cast flickering shadows across the walls, punctuated by the occasional whimper and sharp cry. The night had stretched endlessly. Hours ago, the apartment had fallen into uneasy silence after yet another crying spell. Vi had tried everything, rocking, feeding, singing softly, but nothing seemed to soothe their daughter. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her, but she remained steadfast, determined not to let the cracks in their fragile family show. From the bedroom, a creak and soft footsteps pulled Vi's attention. Sarah emerged, rubbing her eyes with a trembling hand, her face pale and drawn from sleeplessness. Her hair tumbled freely around her shoulders, unkempt from the restless night. Without a word, she leaned against the doorframe, eyes lingering on the baby monitor. "She's crying again," Sarah murmured, voice low and heavy. Vi nodded, swallowing the lump forming in her throat. "I know." The two stood in silence, the weight of years of unspoken frustrations thick in the air. Finally, Sarah broke the quiet. "Do you ever think about how different everything would've been if you hadn't insisted on that donor?" Her voice was sharp, biting. Vi's heart tightened. She took a cautious step forward. "I wanted us, Sarah. I wanted a family with you, with her. I wanted us all."
Sarah scoffed bitterly. "A family? Look at this mess. I'm the one awake all night, every night. I'm the one carrying all the weight, and you? You're just... here. Sometimes." Vi's jaw clenched, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I've been here since the beginning. I've never left." Sarah's eyes narrowed. "You're here physically, but you're not present. You've been working late, distracted, checked out emotionally since day one. And now, I hate that baby for it." Vi's chest tightened with pain. "How can you say that? She's our daughter." "She's a reminder," Sarah said, voice breaking despite herself. "A reminder that I'm alone in this. That you weren't ready, and I've been left to hold it all." Vi moved closer, voice soft but resolute. "You're not alone. I'm here. I love you. I love her. I never stopped trying." Sarah shook her head, eyes shimmering with tears she refused to shed. "Love isn't enough, Vi. It never fixed what's broken between us." Vi swallowed hard. "We can fix it. We have to. For her."
The baby's crying sharpened, piercing the fragile calm like a knife. Sarah flinched, wrapping her arms around herself. Vi's hand instinctively reached out, hovering just short of touching her. "She needs us both," Vi said softly. Sarah glanced away, voice cold and distant. "Maybe she needs one of us more." Vi's eyes brimmed with tears she fought back. "Sarah..." But Sarah shook her head, bitter and resolute. "I can't do this anymore. I'm tired of pretending , tired of hating a baby I never wanted, and a woman I once loved." Vi's voice broke. "You don't mean that." Sarah's gaze hardened. "I do." Vi stood rooted, the space between them now cavernous with years of pain, regret, and love turned bitter.
Sarah turned toward the bedroom, dragging a suitcase behind her. "I'm leaving." Vi barely whispered, "Please don't." Sarah's eyes never met hers as she replied quietly, "i can't do this anymore Violet " The soft click of the closing door echoed in the apartment, leaving Vi alone with the soft cries of their daughter and the crushing silence of a family fractured.
Morning
Sunlight spilled weakly through the blinds, casting long shadows over the quiet apartment. The baby slept peacefully in her crib, oblivious to the absence that now marked her world. Vi sat at the kitchen table, a cold cup of coffee untouched before her. She traced invisible patterns on the wood, trying to steady her thoughts. The night's confrontation replayed in her mind, a painful loop she couldn't escape. She remembered the early days, laughter, hope, plans whispered late at night about the family they'd build. The dream had felt so real then. The joy of watching the tiny life growing inside Sarah. The shared excitement about donor choices, nursery colors, and baby names. But somewhere along the way, cracks formed, small at first, then widening into chasms too vast to ignore. Sarah's resentment, Vi's fear of failing, exhaustion bleeding away hope. And now, the apartment felt hollow without Sarah's presence. Vi rose and moved toward the nursery, cradling the baby monitor as if it were a lifeline. She knelt beside the crib and touched the soft cheek of their daughter. "We're going to be okay," she whispered. "I promise."
The Beginning
It hadn't always been this way. There were nights when they sat tangled in each other's arms, whispering about the future with eyes bright with hope. When the world outside didn't matter, only the warmth between them. Choosing the donor had been a moment of pure love and trust, a leap into a future they believed in. Sarah had been radiant, glowing with the hope of motherhood, and Vi had never been prouder. They dreamed of a family full of laughter and love a sanctuary from the world's harshness.
Return to Present
But dreams don't always survive the weight of reality. Vi looked back toward the closed door that separated her from Sarah's empty room. The silence was deafening. Her hands trembled as she pulled out her phone and scrolled through old pictures, smiles, first kicks, tiny hands curled around fingers. Memories of a love that still lived beneath the bitterness. Her resolve hardened. For their daughter's sake, she had to hold on.
Later That Day
The apartment smelled faintly of lavender from the diffuser Vi had switched on to calm her nerves. The baby slept again, and Vi moved quietly around the nursery, straightening blankets and folding tiny clothes. She paused at a framed photo of the three of them, laughter frozen in time. Her eyes filled with tears. "Mommy's not giving up," she whispered fiercely. "Not on you. Not on us." Outside, the city buzzed on, unaware of the quiet storm inside the small apartment.
That night, Vi sat alone in the quiet apartment, the baby's steady breathing a small comfort against the weight of uncertainty. She didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but she knew one thing, her love for Sarah and their daughter was unwavering. No matter how hard the fight, no matter how deep the hurt, she would fight for their family. Because some love is worth everything. But she learned quickly that Sarah wasn't coming back