Silence stretches slowly and painfully.
“Then what are we doing, Dylan?” My voice breaks.
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. Tears well in my eyes, but I won’t let them fall.
“We should get back to work,” I say, burying my feelings. “Although we can’t go on like this. We need to figure out what happens next. Soon.”
I kiss him on the cheek and let him sit with that. Then I jump into my car and head back.
New Year’s is tomorrow, and I hate this holiday. Who the hell decided celebrating another lap around the sun was a good idea? Another excuse for people to scribble down goals they’ll forget by February. And willingly stay up until midnight? Not me.
I refuse to set resolutions. No list equals no failure. It’s foolproof. But as much as I try to convince myself it doesn’t matter, there’s a weight in my chest. The thought of another year coming feels heavy.
The shower turns cold as my thoughts play out, but I don’t move. I close my eyes and let it sting my skin, hoping it numbs the constant ache. Tears begin to slip out, blending with the water as it streams down my face. I press my forehead to the tile, grasping at anything. At nothing.
God, I need your help. Even if I don’t know what I believe anymore. But I need to believe in something, even if it’s just that someone out there is listening.
I whisper, tilting my head up like He can see me. Like maybe He’s listening.
I know I only come to you when I’m a mess, but I’m here again. Begging. How am I still stuck in the same place as last year? And the year before that? When does it stop being this hard?
My gut twists as I slide down the wall, and I curl into myself on the freezing tile floor. The sobs pouring out of me. When did something as natural as breathing become this difficult? I’m supposed to have it all figured out by now. To be healed. Yet I’m still that scared, lost seventeen-year-old girl. Still pretending everything’s okay.
Faces blur through my mind—Jacob, Dylan, then my daughters—those innocent smiles that deserve so much more than this. And my dad. My dead dad. The words still feel foreign. I don’t even know what I feel. Grief? Emptiness? Anger? I'm angry at myself. Angry at my fear. At this endless cycle of waiting and holding onto so many damn things, never doing anything about them.
The door handle jiggles, snapping me out of it. “Mommy, mommy. Why’s the door locked? I wanna show you my Roblox character.” Lily’s voice whines from outside.
I jump out of the shower, blinking away the tears, and grab a towel. “Two minutes, sweetie! Mommy’s just drying off.”
My phone starts ringing.
Then Jacob yells from downstairs, “Jinx, where’s my wallet?”
I take in a deep breath. No time to cry. No time to fall apart. Not as a mom. Not as a wife.
I answer the call because right now, I need an escape. Any escape.
“Hey, Shantel wants to know if you picked up the champagne centerpieces. She’s being her usual charming self,” Izzy teases.
“Yeah, I got them. I’ll be at work soon.” My voice is flat, emotionless.
There’s a pause. “You okay? You’ve been distant these last few weeks. You know you can talk to me, right?”
A part of me wants to spill everything. But I can’t. Not completely.
“Honestly? Not really. New Year’s has me all kinds of screwed up. I feel lost. Angry. Scared. When do I stop feeling this way and just… do what I need to be happy?”
Izzy’s voice softens. “Are we talking about my brother, your business, or both?”
“Both,” I admit. “It’s like I’m waiting for rock bottom or a miracle, and nothing happens. I just stay stuck.”
Izzy sighs. “Maybe it’s time to rip off your diapers, put on some big girl panties, and stop crapping on yourself and your dreams. Sure, the business might crash and burn faster than my last relationship. But what if it doesn’t? What if it’s successful?”
She pauses, and I hear a guy’s voice in the background. “Sorry.” She comes back on the line. “Donald’s getting impatient. But he’s not important. Ask yourself, what scares you more? Standing still forever or moving in the wrong direction?”
I laugh bitterly. “That seems like a no-brainer. Standing still scares me more.”
“Then move,” Izzy says. “Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s wrong. Just move. Start believing in something bigger than yourself. Believe that even if you make the wrong decision, it’ll lead you wherever you’re supposed to be.”
