“Thank you,” she whispered. “Ivy, thank you so much.”
I laughed and told her she needed to stop before she ruined my mascara.
Two months before the due date, they invited me for dinner.
Afterward, Melissa practically pulled me down the hallway to show me the nursery.
The walls were pale green.
A white crib stood beneath a mobile covered with tiny felt stars.
The changing table drawers were already packed with miniature dresses.
Melissa opened one drawer and laughed through tears.
“I know this is ridiculous. I just couldn’t stop buying things.”
Ryan stood in the doorway smiling.
But he never stepped inside the nursery.
I remember noticing that.
At the time, I thought nothing of it.
Looking back, there had been other signs too.
Small ones.
Melissa became increasingly protective during the pregnancy.
Sometimes she would text me late at night asking whether I had felt the baby kick.
Ryan changed in a different way.
During ultrasounds, he started checking his phone constantly.
Sometimes he angled the screen away from Melissa.
Once, I asked whether something was wrong at work.
“Nothing,” he said quickly. “Just busy.”
Then he changed the subject.
I assumed he was nervous.
New fathers got nervous.
At least, that was what I told myself.
During the final ultrasound, the technician slowly moved the wand along the baby’s spine.
Then she paused.
Only for a moment.
But I noticed.
Her hand stayed still over the lower back slightly longer than usual.
Then she smiled, moved on, and told us everything
ooked fine.
Melissa didn’t seem to notice.
But Ryan did.
He stared at the monitor with an expression I couldn’t understand.
He barely spoke on the drive home.
Weeks later, I was lying in the delivery room gripping Nurse Bianca’s hand.
“One more push, Ivy. You’ve got this.”
I pushed with everything left in me.
Then suddenly, the room filled with a newborn’s cry.
My niece.
I laughed and cried at the same time.
“She’s perfect.”
I looked toward Ryan.
“Go hold your daughter.”
Ryan approached slowly.
The nurse wrapped the baby and placed her in his arms.
Everyone else stepped away for a moment to give the new parents some privacy.
I watched my brother look at his daughter for the first time.
Then I watched his expression change.
It wasn’t joy.
It wasn’t shock either.
It looked more like something inside him had switched off.
His shoulders dropped.
