“You held Mara for six minutes.”
“I work all day.”
“So do I.”
“You are at home.”
My hands stopped in the soapy water.
“So are the babies.”
Callum walked away.
Despite everything, I covered for him.
When his mother called and asked whether he was helping, I glanced toward the closed spare-room door.
“He is tired from work,” I said.
“Does he handle the overnight feedings?”
“He is trying.”
“Don’t overwhelm him,” she warned. “Men often become nervous around newborns. Perhaps he is afraid he will drop one.”
I nearly told her that women did not leave the hospital carrying secret instructions inside their bodies.
We were frightened too.
We simply were not allowed to leave.
Callum stepped into the hallway after I ended the call.
He reached for the spare-room door.
“Try to keep them quiet tonight. I have an early conference call.”
I stared at him.
“Did you hear yourself?”
“What?”
“I had surgery six weeks ago. I feed three babies throughout the night, and you are asking me to keep them quiet for you.”
“I cannot lose my job.”
“And I cannot collapse.”
“You will be fine.”
He closed the door.
That night, Mara would not settle unless I held her upright.
Miles needed another bottle before I finished feeding Maisie.
My glass of water sat only three feet away, but I could not reach it without waking two babies.
I called Callum.
His telephone buzzed through the wall.
Then the call was declined.
I stared at the screen.
The three babies breathed and whimpered around me.
“All right,” I whispered.
“I heard you.”
The next morning, I began documenting everything.
Every feeding.
Every diaper.
Every pumping session.
Every bottle washed.
Every load of laundry.
Every medication I took.
Every minute of sleep.
One week later, Callum entered the kitchen wearing sunglasses on top of his head.
He placed a printed reservation on the counter.
“I booked a trip to the fictional resort town of Solara Bay.”
I examined the paper.
“For us?”
“For me.”
I waited for him to smile.
He did not.
“You booked yourself a vacation?”
“I need to recover.”
“From what?”
“Work. The crying. This house.”
He gestured toward the nursery.
“I have not slept longer than forty minutes at a time in six weeks.”
“That is different.”
“Why?”
“Because this is what you wanted, Alina.”
“I wanted children.”
I looked directly at him.
“I did not want to become a single mother while married.”
“I love them.”
“Then help care for them.”
“I cannot help anyone if I fall apart.”
“You have not helped anyone while holding yourself together.”
Callum’s jaw tightened.
“I am burned out.”
“So am I.”
“I need two weeks. I deserve a proper break.”
Miles’s small hand curled around my finger.
“Who takes care of me while you are gone?”
“You will manage.”
He sighed.
“Honestly, your hormones are making this seem larger than it is.”
I looked down at the baby in my arms.
Three children.
Six weeks old.
A body that still hurt whenever I stood too quickly.
And a husband packing for the beach.
“No.”
I felt something inside me become clear.
“I think I have finally begun seeing the situation exactly as it is.”
Callum left the room.
That evening, I used our shared tablet to order more diapers.
A message appeared at the top of the screen.
We will meet you at the resort Thursday. Oliver already booked his flight.
Callum entered and froze when he saw the tablet.
“You invited your friends?”
“Only for several days.”
“You said you needed to be alone.”
“I said I needed space.”
“You called it a solo recovery trip.”
“I need to get away from all this.”
He gestured toward the nursery again.
I stood slowly.
“All this has names.”
“Do not start.”
“Say them.”
“What?”
“Our children’s names.”
Callum rubbed his forehead.
“I know their names.”
“Then say them.”
“Alina, stop creating drama.”
“Say their names.”
“Maisie, Miles, and Mara.”
His answer came with irritation rather than affection.
“Happy?”
“No.”
He looked away.
“I need a break with the guys.”
“You lied.”
“I left out details because I knew you would react like this.”
I picked up my telephone and called Oliver.
He answered on the second ring.
“Hey, Alina. How are the babies?”
“Did Callum tell you I knew about this trip?”
“What?”
“Did he tell you why he was leaving?”
There was a pause.
“He said you wanted quiet time with the babies.”
I looked around the room.
Three bassinets.
Two overflowing laundry baskets.
Six bottles waiting to be washed.
“He said what?”
“He told us you wanted time alone to bond with them.”
