Time seemed to move incredibly fast for Cassie.
It felt as though before she even had time to blink, she was suddenly 6 months along with a big belly she struggled to carry around.
In just a few months, another little boy would be joining their family.
"We'll have to keep trying until a girl comes along." Nate had joked, his hand rubbing affectionately over belly, while they had dinner with friends.
Cassie had struggled to smile sincerely at his comment.
The thought of getting through this pregnancy was hard enough, she didn't even dare let her mind wander to the idea of a next one. The way Nate had so casually joked at dinner about "trying for a girl" made her stomach twist, and not just from nausea. She had smiled politely, played the part, but inside she wanted to scream.
Taking care of Harvey while heavily pregnant had been far harder than she'd ever anticipated. It was like she hadn't even fully recovered from her first pregnancy before her body was asked to do it all again, and this time, she wasn't just tired, she was depleted.
As her baby boy grew more and more into a toddler - mobile, loud, needy - the baby in her belly seemed to grow just as fast. At nine months, Harvey no longer wanted to be cradled and doted on; he wanted to crawl, pull himself up on furniture, test the limits of his little world. He squirmed out of her arms constantly, fought diaper changes like a wild animal, and hurled his toys when he was bored.
And still, she loved him, more than anything. But loving him didn't make the days any easier.
He was a big boy for his age, too. Heavy and strong. Picking him up, bending over to scoop toys off the floor, chasing him barefoot through the hallway, it all left her breathless. Her back constantly ached. Her feet were swollen beyond recognition. And her patience... well, that was wearing thin, too.
Everything took longer now. Everything felt like a mountain.
And then there was food.
They had agreed early on: no store-bought baby food. Everything would be homemade, organic, clean. It sounded lovely in theory, in line with the kind of mother Cassie had always dreamed she'd be. So she blended, mashed, steamed, pureed. She poured over Tik-Toks, bought little glass jars and silicone freezer trays. She spent hours preparing meals that Harvey would throw on the floor or push away with a dramatic shake of his head.
And still, she tried again. Every day. Because somewhere along the line, trying became her identity. Pushing herself became the standard.
She'd blend spinach at 7 a.m. with one hand while balancing Harvey on one hip and rubbing her lower back with the other. She'd serve bright green mush in tiny bamboo bowls and then scrape it off the wall fifteen minutes later. She'd cry in the kitchen because she felt like a failure for not getting her baby to eat zucchini.
Add in a hyper little puppy dog who loved running around the house with her underwear, and Cassie was struggling to keep up.
It wasn't just the work, it was the pressure. The constant inner voice telling her she wasn't doing enough. Wasn't enough.
She pressed a hand to her belly as it shifted beneath her skin, heavy and tight. Another boy. Another wave of responsibility she wasn't sure she could carry.
There were moments she felt like she was drowning in the demands of motherhood.
She had hardly gotten used to the constant caretaking, feeding, changing and Harvey's constant need for attention, that combining these with her pregnancy hormones was quickly sending her spiralling.
Sometimes she felt too tired to even get out of bed, too sick to play with her son.
But then she felt so guilty.
She was supposed to be savouring these moments with him, soaking them in.
She felt guilty that her own stupidity would result in Harvey receiving less love and attention from her once his brother came along.
She loved Harvey more than anything, but the worry had crept in that she wouldn't be enough, that couldn't do it all. It was hard to hold both truths at once: the overwhelming love she had for her son, and the nagging feeling that she was somehow failing him, even though she was doing her best.
The guilt weighed on her heart, suffocating her every time she had to push him away for just a moment to rest, or when he tugged at her, wanting to play, and she simply didn't have the energy. The exhaustion was all-consuming.
She feared he would one day come to resent for having another baby too soon, for stripping him from their undivided attention so early.
Nate, too, seemed to feel the shift. He wasn't as present as she'd hoped. He was preoccupied with school and work, and less on their expanding family. They hadn't talked much about what that would mean for them, how things might change. Like her, he also struggled to stay atop of the expectations placed on him as the sole provider of their home.
Cassie knew there was no point voicing these concerns to Nate. Whenever she tried to communicate with him her struggles and fears, he never seemed to understand what she was saying and they would end up fighting. She had concluded, when Nate had seemed confused as to why she kept Harvey's swing in their bathroom, that their parenthood journey had been vastly different so far.
He had never faced the issue of needing to shower and taking care of another human at the same time.
Cassie had mastered the art of showering, shaving and washing her hair in less than ten minutes.
On the other side, Nate struggled to open to his wife about his own trials and tribulations.
He struggled with vulnerability, often mistaking aggression for intimacy and silence for strength.
Beneath his bravado, Nate's own feelings of insecurity about not being able to live up to the expectations placed upon him ate away at him. Despite the tough exterior he projected, he too was constantly haunted by the fear that he would never be enough, not as a father, not as a man, and certainly not as a husband.
The image he tried so desperately to maintain, of control, strength, dominance, was little more than a mask, one he wore to hide the gnawing doubt that he was fundamentally flawed.
In his marriage, these insecurities festered. The pressure to provide, to protect, to be everything his father wasn't, collided with his unresolved trauma and emotional repression. Although his father had proven himself to be far from the perfect man, he had still managed to establish himself over the years as an incredibly successful businessman and a pillar in their community. His grandfather before had equally achieved lauded success. Both were terrible men to their family.
In his heart, Nate had hoped to achieve everything they had and more.
He wanted to graduate.
He wanted to take over the business.
He wanted a family that genuinely loved him.
In reality, he soon realised this was far more difficult to achieve than what he had imagined.
He felt as though he was being pulled in a hundred different directions- school, work, family, life.
His day started early: 5am wake up, gym session, classes, work and then home to his family and study. He stuck to his routine, his meal plans, and his study sessions. He focused on the projects his father assigned to him. He relied on Cassie's support at home to allow him to stick to his routine.
Sometimes, something had to give.
If he focused solely on his home, his relationship with Cassie and Harvey thrived. His wife and son needed his attention, his care, his time, his love. He realised that when he dedicated that time to them, Cassie was more at peace and so was Harvey.
But then he would start to focus on school and work again, stretched thin amongst his many commitments, and his home life would start to crumble again. He would come home to find Cassie exhausted and frustrated after spending the whole day at home with a crying baby.
They were both overtired and overworked in their own way.
They would take their frustrations out on one another.
It was almost like Cassie wanted to pick a fight with him, wanted him to lose it completely, to unravel before her like he had done many times before.
When arguments arose, he felt personally attacked, even when Cassie was simply seeking connection or understanding.
Deep down, Nate feared that if his wife ever saw the full extent of his emotional turmoil, the confusion, the shame, the weakness, she would leave.
So, he doubled down. He tried to control everything, his environment, his wife, himself. So much of his life as a child felt out of his control that he sought out a disciplined and structured life to allow himself to breathe.
He struggled to give Cassie any freedom to be her own person, to make decisions for herself. The thought terrified him. Even when she asked him to move out, he made sure he was still there.
He didn't allow her the space she had asked over and over again. Nate knew he was wrong in doing that, he was aware she had caught on to his manipulation tactics early on. Still, she had allowed back in their home, she had allowed him back in her.
Cassie lived her life a few steps behind him at all times. It was the only way they could co-exist, she knew that.
In his relationship with Cassie, Nate found someone who idolised him, made him feel powerful, chosen, needed. She adored him, gave herself to him without question, and in that, Nate found the illusion of dominance he craved.
Cassie's complete dependence on him allowed him to feel in control. It allowed him to feel secure in their relationship, it helped him remove any doubt he may have about her loyalty for him.
He loved the way she looked at him, not for who he was, but for who he wished he could be. And that made letting go impossible, even when he knew staying meant destruction for both of them.
If Nate struggled with being vulnerable, Cassie struggled with being less vulnerable.
Cassie's vulnerability, her deep need for love and validation, struck a chord in Nate. He saw in her the same kind of emotional hunger he tried to bury within himself.
Truth was, he didn't know how to be vulnerable, because vulnerability had never felt safe. And in the end, that fear, of being truly seen, was the thing that kept him the most alone.
To him, an admission of vulnerability meant weakness and weakness meant failure.
Cassie's emotional openness, her raw desperation to be loved, sometimes terrified Nate. Not because he didn't care for her, but because she reflected everything he was afraid of in himself. Her willingness to expose her pain, to beg for closeness, to need someone so fully, so desperately - it clashed violently with the armor he had spent years building.
Sometimes, he didn't know how to meet her in that space. When she reached for him emotionally, he recoiled. Love, to Nate, was something tangled with power, performance, and possession. So when Cassie asked for real connection, something honest, something human, he shut down or lashed out. A part of him knew he should be giving her more. He should show his love more, praise her more, give her the validation she so desperately wanted from him.
But when Cassie would seek affection; Nate would pull away or punish her for wanting more.
In turn, that made Cassie even more desperate for his love and approval- to the point of neglecting her own boundaries and wellbeing for his love. Her fragile sense of self, combined with Nate's emotional coldness, made her become more clingy, apologetic, passive, desperate to hold onto him by any means necessary. It kept her exactly where he needed her to be, in order to be with him.
And Nate knew it.
He understood just how deeply her insecurities ran and he used them. The more unsure she was of herself, the less likely she'd ever realise she deserved better. The less likely she'd leave him.
His need for control didn't just show up in arguments or routines, it bled into everything. It twisted into possessiveness, a quiet but constant demand that Cassie exist for him . His loyalty. His comfort. His image.
She wasn't just his wife. She was supposed to be an extension of him.
Gemma couldn't understand how her friend could put up with Nate's incessant calls and text messages when she was out of his sight. In the time spent with her young friend, Nate's presence loomed over them at all times. He needed to know where she was, who she was with, what she was doing and when she would be back home.
But to Cassie, his overbearingness translated to love, to interest, to care.
The tug-of-war between the need for affection and the overwhelming weight of control was a reality she couldn't even begin to explain. And every time Nate reached out with that need for validation, that insatiable demand for loyalty and love, Cassie gave into it because it was the only kind of love she thought she could have. It was all tangled up, possession, validation, fear. She didn't know where one ended, and the other began.
She feared his silence, his indifference, the coldness she had often been subjected to by him.
In his dominance she felt safe, in her subservience he felt safe.
Underneath it all, what neither of them could articulate was that they were both terrified of being abandoned.
When Nate turned cold, when his mood changed, when Cassie felt cast aside, she would act out, she would rebel, she would do anything to trigger his anger.
Because any emotion, even the most violent, was better than his indifference.
And because after the storm came the rainbow. After he would lash out at her, after he managed to destroy anything on site, he would crawl back and shower her with love and kindness.
Nate was the kindest to her in the aftermath of being the cruelest.
She knew it was unhealthy, toxic, immature. But sometimes it was the only way.
His return to work and college had also resulted in a return of his busy social life. It wasn't as bad as it had been when she was expecting Harvey, but it was still just as frustrating to be stuck home alone while he was out having a good time. Once again, he felt a million miles away from her. Distant, detached, a far cry from the family man she grew accustomed to over the holidays.
Nate: Out, not sure when coming home.
That was all she would get from him, sometimes only after texting and calling him to ask his whereabouts. Meanwhile, Cassie needed a week's notice to even go for a walk around the block.
Gemma had come over that Friday night to spend some time with her and had witnessed first hand Cassie's frustration at not knowing her husband's plans. She had been looking forward to a couple of uninterrupted hours with Gemma.
"It's not like I've ever told him he can't go out." She complained to her friend. "I just wish he would talk to me about it, he knew you were coming over."
Gemma had talked her into dropping Harvey off at Marsha's and heading out for dinner instead of crying over her husband at home.
"You need this, Cass. Just food, music, girl talk. No diapers, no crying, no Nate breathing down your neck. Just us," Gemma insisted, tugging on Cassie's arm as she lay sprawled on the couch in a hoodie and sweats.
Cassie resisted at first. She felt guilty for even entertaining the thought of stepping away. But eventually, the urge to have fun and give Nate a taste of his medicine won out. She had sent him a cryptic text to warn that Harvey was with Marsha and had slipped on a cute outfit.
Dinner with Gemma was exactly what she needed. They laughed, talked about everything and nothing. She couldn't drink, obviously, but she felt inebriated by the feeling of being out and free.
Gemma's friends had texted her to say they were at a frat party and to come join them.
"I shouldn't," she said, biting her lip. "Nate's probably already pissed I went out for dinner."
Gemma rolled her eyes. "You told him you'd be out. Come on, it's one party. We don't have to stay long. You'll be home in an hour."
That was how Cassie found herself standing in the middle of a crowded frat house, the bass from the speakers vibrating through the floor. The smell of cheap beer and body spray filled the air. Cassie didn't drink, didn't dance, didn't do anything but stand off to the side with Gemma and her friends and sip sparkling water.
But it felt good. Free. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt like someone other than Nate's wife or Harvey's mom.
She felt her age, kind of.
Until her phone buzzed. Again. And again.
Nate: Where are you?
Nate: You said you'd be home an hour ago.
Nate: You're not answering. What the fuck, Cassie?
She didn't reply. Maybe she should've. But some quiet part of her enjoyed the silence, the not-answering. For once, she didn't want to be reachable. For once, she wanted him to feel like she did.
She danced a little, chatted to a few people. She stood out like a sore thumb, pregnant at a frat party. Gemma's friends were gorgeous and guys had flocked to them, but Cassie doubted she could be of any interest to them with her expanded abdomen.
His face pops up in the crowd and it shocks her. He's not hard to spot, so tall, so handsome, so commanding of everyone's attention.
Nate's eyes found hers. His face was tight with anger, his jaw clenched so hard it looked like it might crack. He was breathing hard like he'd been speeding through the streets.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, stunned.
"I tracked your phone," he growled, stepping closer. "You weren't answering, Cassie. You're pregnant. You're at a party. What the fuck were you thinking?"
Gemma appeared behind her, tense. "She's fine, Nate. We're just out-"
"I wasn't talking to you," Nate snapped, not even looking at her. Cassie felt heat crawl up her neck as his eyes locked on hers. His voice dropped, low and furious. "Get in the fucking car."
For a moment, she didn't move.
She could hear Gemma's voice behind her, as she tried to argue with Nate whose eyes were focused intently on her. She could sense the looks from the guys they had been talking to, the whispers.
One of them had approached Nate, asking him if there was a problem. He was trying to be the good guy, the one that jumped in when an aggressive guy confronted a woman.
Nate didn't even blink. His eyes slid sideways to the guy, sharp as a blade.
"Back off."
The guy hesitated, glancing between Nate's tense frame and Cassie's uncertain expression. She knew if the guy inched any closer, Nate would lose it.
Cassie stepped forward quickly before things could explode. "It's fine," she told the guy, her voice tight. "Really. Just... thank you, but it's okay."
He backed off slowly, giving Nate a final look of warning before melting back into the crowd.
"You're making a scene." She had warned Nate, embarrassed by his sudden appearance.
"I should be making a scene," he hissed, eyes flickering down to her belly and then back up. "You're pregnant, Cass," he said, jaw tightening again. "Get in the car," he said again.
Behind her, Gemma was still hovering, unsure whether to intervene. Cassie looked back at the party, the colored lights flickering across strange faces, people laughing and drinking and living in a world that felt a million miles away from the one she was in.
The ride home was silent, except for the occasional sniffle from Cassie as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She stared out the window, fighting the tears pricking at her eyes.
He didn't yell. He didn't need to. His silence was louder.
She watched his hands clutch the steering wheel so hard it looked like it may break.
She knew he expected complete loyalty from her, she wouldn't even dare befriend another man. Nate's jealousy could be overwhelming. Whenever he felt threatened by any outside influence, whether it was another man, a friend, or even her own independence, he could become so aggressive, so domineering.
She knew it triggered him. So why did she do it? Why did she want to see him explode?
When they got home, Nate turned off the engine but didn't get out.
He sat there, jaw clenched, breathing through his nose like he was trying not to explode.
"You wanna go out, fine. But you answer me, Cassie. You don't disappear on me like that. You don't make me feel like I don't know where the fuck my wife and unborn kid are."
Cassie didn't answer right away. She stared out the window, her hands folded protectively over her belly, the streetlights casting flickers of light across her tired face. Her throat was tight with unsaid words. This wasn't just about tonight. It never was.
But instead, she whispered, "I just wanted to feel like me again."
He didn't say anything. The air between them was thick, unmoving. It always came to this - a boiling point followed by a freeze. Emotions too big for either of them to handle maturely. Nate wasn't used to words like that, vulnerable ones, soft ones. He didn't know what to do with them.
So, he did what he always did, reach for control.
"You are you," he said sharply, still not looking at her. "You're my wife. You're the mother of my kids. That's my kid you're carrying. And you're out there, standing around in the middle of a crowd of guys, laughing, looking like you're available-"
Her eyes widened. " Available? Nate, are you serious right now?"
"You were surrounded by guys!" he exploded, hand slamming against the steering wheel. "I saw them. You think they care that you're pregnant? You think that means anything to them? You were standing there like you didn't even realise how bad that looks!"
"I wasn't doing anything wrong!" she shot back. "I was with Gemma . I was drinking water, standing there, not even dancing. What exactly did I do that's so dangerous?"
"You put yourself in a situation , Cassie," he said through gritted teeth. "You were vulnerable. You're pregnant, you're outnumbered, and you were somewhere I couldn't protect you. And you didn't even fucking tell me."
She laughed bitterly. "Oh, so now it's about protecting me?"
"It's always been about protecting you!"
"No, it's been about controlling me," she snapped. "There's a difference, Nate. You don't tell me where you are half the time. I have to beg you to answer your texts. But I go out once, once , and you act like I've committed some crime."
"Because I don't put myself in positions like that!" he shouted. "I'm not out here letting other women flirt with me, or acting like I'm single, or showing up to frat parties six months pregnant like it's no big deal!"
"I didn't flirt with anyone-"
"You didn't have to!" His voice was rising, raw with something deeper. "You don't even realise the way guys look at you. And the way you dress-"
Her whole body stiffened. "Don't go there."
"Why not?" he said, breath ragged. "You show up like that and think no one's gonna notice? You don't think they saw a vulnerable girl, alone, pregnant, looking to feel good about herself for a night?"
"Are you hearing yourself?" she asked, disgusted. "You're making me sound like a target. Like I was asking for it."
"I'm saying you're not thinking," Nate said coldly. "You're not acting like a mother. You're not acting like someone who has a family to come home to."
She flinched, and that was the moment she snapped.
"I am a mother every single second of every single day!" she screamed. "While you're off doing God knows what, I'm here. Feeding, changing, cleaning. I don't get to escape it, Nate. Not for a minute. So don't you dare stand there and tell me I'm not acting like a mother because I wanted two hours of feeling like something other than a human milk machine."
He stared at her, chest heaving, the silence between them pulsing like a bruise.
"I tell you everything," she continued, voice quieter now but just as cutting. "You don't tell me shit. You come and go as you please. No explanations. No apologies. And I stay. I take it. Because I don't want to fight. Because I'm too tired to fight. But you walk in here like I betrayed you for going to dinner with my friend?"
His jaw twitched again. He was trying to hold it back - the explosion, the panic, the shame.
"You weren't just at dinner," he muttered. "You ended up somewhere I wouldn't have let you go."
She laughed again, hollow. "Exactly. You wouldn't have let me, because I'm your fucking possession, right?"
"Don't fucking twist this, I'm not the one who fucked up here," he said, shaking his head like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You could've gotten hurt.
"So could you," she shot back. "But I don't chase you down every time you disappear for a night. I don't get to track your phone. I just have to wait. And hope you come home."
"I'm not the one who needs to be watched," he said flatly.
"No," she agreed bitterly. "Because no one watches you . I'm the only one who's scared when you don't come back. I'm the only one who has to be . "
The silence that followed wasn't soft. It was suffocating. She didn't cry. She didn't beg. She just opened the car door and stepped out, letting it slam behind her. Nate stayed in the car, eyes burning into the dash.
Later, when he crawled into bed and pulled her body against his, Cassie had softly apologised.
"Sometimes I feel like you do these things just to see me get angry." he whispered.
"Sometimes I feel like you only see me when you're angry." she whispered back.
And in the darkness, as his hand rested over her stomach and his lips brushed her shoulder, Cassie understood - even if he kissed her, even if he told her he was sorry - the next time she stepped out of line, it would all happen again.
Because this was never about the party.
It was about power.
He wasn't angry because she'd gone out.
He was angry because, for the first time in a long time, she hadn't needed him.
I want to see your sadness, I want to share your sin
I want to be your blood and I want to be let in