What can I do?
Some nights, there was nothing Elliot could do. No joke, no solution, no perfectly worded phrase that would make anything better. No offer of food, no blanket adjustment, no reminder that it would all be okay. Pregnancy had transformed Leah’s body into something foreign—something exhausting and relentless. Some days, she powered through, her usual sharp wit and determination carrying her through discomfort. Other days, she felt trapped inside herself. Those were the hardest. Tonight was one of them. Elliot had known from the moment he walked in that it wasn’t going to be an easy night. The house was quiet, too quiet. No greeting, no sarcastic remark about how long he’d taken to show up, no Rusty bouncing at his feet demanding attention. Just Leah, curled into herself on the couch, staring blankly at the wall. "Hey," he said softly, setting his bag down. She didn’t respond right away, only blinked as if surfacing from deep underwater. "Hey," she echoed, but it was ...