The night after another surge of messages from Nalyn, I sat on the edge of my bed staring at the phone screen, the glow making my eyes sting. She had forwarded me yet another long message—complaints disguised as duty, obligations disguised as concern.
I inhaled, exhaled, and typed slowly.
> *Ate, I'm doing everything I can. I work every day, I take care of Neven, I try to provide for us. But why does it feel like it's still not enough? I can only do so much. Please understand I'm not neglecting anyone. I'm just one person.*
I paused before hitting send, adding a softer line to cushion the weight:
> *We all love Neven, and I want what's best for him, too. I just hope you can see that I'm trying my hardest, even when it doesn't look like it.*
Then I sent it. My chest tightened, both from the relief of speaking up and the dread of what response might come.
---
+Talking with Noah+
That evening, after work, I finally cornered Noah at the small dining table in our rented place. The air was heavy; the sound of Neven's faint cough from the bedroom hung between us like another question neither of us could escape.
"Noah," I began, my voice firm but not sharp. "We need to talk about this."
He rubbed his forehead. "About Nalyn's messages again?"
"About all of it." I leaned closer, folding my arms. "I can't keep hearing the same complaints, Noah. If you don't have a job yet, then you have to go home and be Neven's nanny. At least that way, no one can say I'm neglecting him or your mom."
His face tightened. He didn't reply immediately, and the silence stretched too long. Finally, he whispered, "I can't… just let you work by yourself, Noira. What kind of husband would that make me?"
I sighed, feeling the frustration build. "You think I want this? You think I want to carry everything on my own? But you have no job. That's reality. If you can't find one yet, then at least take care of our son properly so I won't hear these endless complaints."
He lifted his gaze, guilt swimming in his eyes. "I'm trying. You don't see it, but I am. I've been sending applications, I've gone to interviews—"
"And failed them," I cut in, not cruelly, but plainly. "And while you're trying, I'm the one keeping us afloat. Noah, do you understand how heavy that feels?"
He clenched his jaw, the silence returning, thick with things unsaid. Then softly, "I can't go back and just be a nanny, Noira. I have plans for us. I don't want us to live like this forever."
I reached for his hand, my own voice trembling. "I know you have plans. But right now, what about reality? What about today, this week, this month? Dreams don't pay rent. Plans don't feed Neven."
His shoulders slumped. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue again, to stand his ground. But instead, he just nodded faintly. "I hear you. I just… can't give up on what I'm aiming for. Please understand that, too."
I sat back, exhausted. "I understand, Noah. I just wish your sisters did, too."
---
+A Breath of Lightness+
The next day at work, the storm still clung to me, but my friends noticed and, as always, tried to break it.
"Girl," Serenya leaned over my desk with a grin, "if Noah doesn't step up, maybe it's time you let *Ken* rescue you."
I blinked, startled. "What? Ken? Seriously?"
Serenya giggled. "Why not? He's tall, decent-looking, and always asks about you. Plus, he actually *has* a job."
From the other side, Iris chimed in, smirking. "Forget Ken. I ship you with Jerry. He's the serious one, quiet but strong. Imagine him cooking dinner while you're resting after work. Perfect house-husband vibes."
I buried my face in my hands, half-laughing, half-groaning. "You two are insane. I'm married! I have Neven. You can't just… 'ship' me like some drama character."
"That's exactly why we're doing it," Serenya teased, poking my arm. "Because your life is already like a drama series. All it needs is a love triangle to spice things up."
I rolled my eyes, but a small, reluctant laugh escaped my lips. For a moment, the tension lifted, replaced by the silliness of two friends trying to pull me out of my storm.
"If I end up with either Ken or Jerry in your stories," I said, finally smiling, "make sure at least one of them knows how to do the laundry."
The three of us burst into laughter, the sound carrying just enough weight to remind me: even in the middle of chaos, small moments of lightness existed.
---
+ Back to Routine+
Life didn't pause for family drama. The next week, we got back into routine. Each morning, Noah walked with me to my company. Sometimes we barely talked, just held the silence between us, but his presence beside me gave me a strange comfort. At the building's entrance, he'd wait a moment before turning back, as if reluctant to leave me to the day's battles.
One morning, as I clocked in, one of my teammates noticed him lingering outside. "That your husband?" she asked, raising a brow.
"Yes," I said cautiously.
She nodded, thoughtful. "He looks decent. Is he looking for work? My cousin's team is short on manpower. They're scouting for applicants. Maybe I can refer him."
I froze for a second, hope flickering like a match. "Really? He is looking."
Later, I mentioned it to Noah as we walked home. His eyes lit up with a mix of surprise and determination. "A referral? From your company?"
"Yes," I said, smiling faintly. "One of my teammates noticed you. She said they might be hiring."
He fell quiet, but this time it wasn't the heavy silence of defeat—it was the silence of someone trying to hold back hope, afraid it might slip away too soon.
---
+The Return to Silence+
That night, Noah was quiet again, but in a different way. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, as if my words from the night before still echoed in his mind—only now mixed with the possibility of a new door opening.
I sat beside him. "Noah… did you think about what I said?"
He nodded slowly. "Yes. And I still can't be what you're asking, Noira. I want to be more. For you. For Neven. Just… trust me a little longer. Maybe this lead is it."
I bit the inside of my cheek, torn between belief and exhaustion. "Then prove it, Noah. Show me something I can hold onto. Because words aren't enough anymore."
His fingers tightened into fists, but he didn't argue. He only whispered, "I will."
And though the silence that followed was heavy, it carried a thin thread of hope—fragile, but still there.