Song for this chapter: Taylor Swift - This Love (Taylor's Version) on the multimedia.

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Sign

The morning felt surreal. The sound of Ivy's small footsteps filled the house as she rushed back and forth between the living room and her bedroom, double-checking her things, making sure she hadn't left anything behind. Today was the day. Our move-in day. The day I never imagined would come.

I glanced out the window, seeing Linc's car pulling up outside. My heart pounded in my chest, not from excitement, but from a familiar, unsettling feeling—one that had been gnawing at me for months. Linc was Ivy's father, and today was supposed to mark a new beginning for the three of us. But every time I thought about it, all I could feel was the weight of the past, the mistakes we never really talked about.

Ivy appeared by my side, clutching her favorite stuffed bunny. "Mommy, he's here," she whispered, her voice both excited and nervous. I nodded, brushing her hair back and kissing her on the forehead. "Let's go, sweetheart."

We stepped outside, and there he was, standing by the car, waiting. Linc. Tall, stoic, handsome as ever. But his eyes... they barely glanced at me, as if I wasn't even there. It was like I was just part of the background, something he couldn't bother acknowledging. I swallowed hard, telling myself not to take it personally, but it still hurt.

He opened the car door for Ivy, bending down to meet her at eye level. "Hi, Ivy," he said softly, his voice gentle, trying too hard to be fatherly. "Are you ready for the big move?"

Ivy looked at him, her eyes full of that innocent curiosity she always carried, but there was hesitation too. "Yes," she replied, her tone polite, but distant. Respectful, but not affectionate. I could see it in the way she clutched her bunny tighter, the way she shifted her feet. She didn't know him. Not really. He might be her father, but he wasn't familiar to her.

Linc helped her into the car and secured her seatbelt. He didn't say a word to me, didn't even look at me. It was as if I was invisible, just air that he had to move through to get to Ivy. I stood there for a moment, frozen, before slowly making my way to the other side of the car.

The ride was quiet, painfully so. Ivy stared out the window, her little face thoughtful, as if she was processing something too big for her. I could feel the tension in the air, thick and unspoken. Linc kept his eyes on the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly.

Ivy's voice cut through the silence. "Mommy, are we going to be happy here?"

Her question felt like a punch to my gut. I didn't know how to answer, because I wasn't sure. "We'll do our best, honey," I said softly, reaching over to touch her hand. "We'll make it a home."

Linc's jaw tightened at my words, but he still didn't speak. He wasn't angry—just distant. Cold. Like all the warmth had drained out of him. It made me wonder if he was ready for this, or if he just felt like he had no choice.

When we finally arrived at the house, Ivy's eyes widened in awe. The big house loomed in front of us, towering and imposing, far from the small, cozy apartment we had been used to.

Linc turned to Ivy, his face softening. "This is your new home, Ivy. You can pick any room you like."

Ivy nodded, but she wasn't smiling. She didn't jump out of the car with excitement like I had imagined. Instead, she got out slowly, her little feet making soft thuds on the driveway. She stayed close to me, glancing at Linc every now and then with that same quiet curiosity.

I couldn't blame her. She could sense it—this thing between us. This invisible wall that Linc and I had built over time, brick by brick, with all the things left unsaid. She knew something was wrong, even if she couldn't put it into words.

As we stood in front of the house, Linc finally looked at me, really looked at me for the first time that day. His eyes, deep and blue, searched mine for something, but I couldn't tell what. Was he trying to understand me? Or was he just trying to make sense of what we had become?

I looked back at him, trying to hold his gaze, but it was too hard. There was too much between us. Too much unsaid. Too much that had gone wrong. Ivy was here, and she deserved a father, but I wasn't sure if Linc and I could ever fix what had broken between us.

Ivy tugged on my hand, pulling me toward the door. "Can we go inside, Mommy?" she asked, her voice soft, as if she could feel the weight of the moment too.

"Of course, sweetheart," I replied, forcing a smile as I squeezed her hand.

Linc moved ahead, unlocking the door and holding it open for us. Ivy stepped in first, looking around with wide eyes, taking in the newness of it all. I followed, feeling the weight of the house settle on my shoulders.

As I crossed the threshold, Linc's voice finally broke the silence between us. "Sign... we'll make this work. For Ivy."

I turned to him, surprised to hear him speak to me, but his words were heavy, more of an obligation than a promise. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that we could make this work for Ivy. But deep down, I knew it wasn't that simple.

Ivy deserved more than this. She deserved a family. A real one. But I wasn't sure if Linc and I could ever give her that.

As soon as we stepped inside, the vastness of the house hit me. It was beautiful, yes—spacious, with high ceilings and large windows that let in the sunlight. But it felt too big, too empty for just the three of us. Ivy wandered around, her small feet echoing in the open space, but instead of the excitement I hoped she'd feel, she just seemed... uncertain.

I glanced over at Linc, who had already moved ahead, as though he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. There was still that distance between us, an invisible chasm neither of us knew how to cross.

"Linc," I called, my voice hesitant. "What about the stuff we left at the house? Ivy's toys, our things..."

He barely turned to face me, his voice clipped. "I hired people. They'll bring it later."

I nodded, trying to keep my composure. It wasn't the answer I was expecting. He had planned everything out so meticulously, without even consulting me. As if I were just a bystander in my own life, and he was the one calling all the shots.

Ivy was already tugging at his hand, and Linc led her up the stairs to show her her new room. I followed behind them, my heart heavy. I watched as he opened the door to the room he'd prepared for her—a room that was far too big for a child. Her eyes widened as she stepped inside, but once again, the awe I was expecting wasn't there. She looked small in that enormous space.

Linc knelt down to her level. "This is your room, Ivy. You can decorate it however you like."

Ivy nodded politely, but there was no joy, no thrill in her response. "Okay."

I could see her discomfort, the way she held her bunny tightly to her chest. She didn't say anything, but I knew her well enough to understand that this wasn't what she had imagined. It wasn't what I had imagined either.

Linc straightened up and turned to leave, and Ivy, sensing the moment, clung to me. "Mommy, can I stay with you for now?"

I nodded, stroking her hair. "Of course, sweetheart. Whenever you want."

As Linc left Ivy to settle into her room, I took a deep breath and followed him down the hallway. There was a question I needed to ask, even though I dreaded the answer.

"Linc," I began, hesitating as we stopped in front of another door. "Where... where will I be sleeping?"

He didn't look at me right away, his gaze fixed on the floor. "Ivy needs to believe that we're... together," he said quietly, his voice devoid of emotion. "She needs to see us sharing a room."

For a moment, a flicker of hope sparked inside me. Maybe... maybe this meant we could try, that we could start to bridge the gap between us for Ivy's sake.

But then he crushed it, like he always did.

"In reality," he continued, his voice cold, "we'll sleep in separate rooms. You know it's better that way."

I stood there, the weight of his words sinking in, and my heart broke all over again. I had expected this, hadn't I? I knew that things weren't right between us. But hearing him say it—hearing him draw that line between us so firmly—was like a knife to my chest.

I tried to keep the tears at bay, but it was impossible. I looked away, biting my lip to stop it from trembling. This wasn't what I wanted for Ivy, for me, for any of us. We were supposed to be a family. But how could we be when Linc couldn't even share a bed with me?

"Right," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Separate rooms."

Linc still didn't look at me. Instead, he gestured toward one of the guest rooms. "You can stay here."

And just like that, it was done. I wasn't his partner, wasn't his wife, wasn't anything more than the mother of his child—a stranger in this big, empty house. He couldn't even pretend for Ivy. Not really.

"Okay," I murmured, turning away before he could see the tears gathering in my eyes. I walked toward the guest room, feeling more alone than ever.

This house may have been beautiful, but it wasn't a home. It was a reminder of all the things we weren't, and all the things we could never be.

***

As I was getting Ivy settled in her new room, Linc walked in, holding a stack of papers. He looked serious, and I could tell something was weighing on his mind.

"Sign," he began, his voice clipped and formal, "we need to talk about the wedding."

My heart sank. I had hoped we could take things slowly, at least for a bit, but I should have known better. Linc was always about efficiency, about checking things off his list without any room for sentimentality.

"What about it?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

He spread the papers on the dresser, pointing to various documents and schedules. "We're on a tight timeline. The wedding is in four days. We need to get everything organized quickly."

Four days. It felt like a slap in the face. I had expected us to have more time, to be able to plan things out properly. But here we were, rushing into something that was supposed to be special.

"Four days?" I repeated, trying to process the shock. "Is that really necessary?"

Linc's gaze was cold and unfeeling, as if he had already made up his mind. "Yes. I need this done quickly. It's the only way we can move forward smoothly."

I stared at the papers, feeling a lump form in my throat. This wasn't what I had envisioned. I had imagined a wedding where we took our time, where we could actually enjoy the process and make it our own. But this... this felt rushed and impersonal.

"Alright," I said finally, swallowing hard. "What do we need to do?"

Linc seemed relieved that I wasn't arguing further. He pointed to a list of tasks. "We need to finalize the venue, confirm the guest list, and arrange for the catering. I've already taken care of some of it, but we need to make sure everything is in order."

As he went through the list, I could see how meticulously he had planned everything out. It was all so clinical, so devoid of the warmth and personal touches I had hoped for.

I nodded, feeling numb. "Okay. Let's get it done."

Linc's expression softened, just a fraction. "I know this isn't ideal, Sign, but we need to get through this. It's important for Ivy."

His words were a reminder of why we were doing this—to give Ivy a stable family, to give her a father. But even as I tried to focus on that, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were rushing into something that needed more time and care.

"We'll manage," I said, forcing a smile. "Let's start with the venue."

We spent the next few hours going through details, finalizing plans, and making phone calls. Each decision felt like a small part of a larger puzzle, and as we moved through the list, I could see how much Linc was invested in making this work.

But as I looked at the clock and realized how little time we had, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. We were rushing into this wedding, and it felt like we were rushing into a new chapter of our lives without truly being ready for it.

I glanced at Linc, who was busy making arrangements. His focus was admirable, but it also felt like he was closing himself off from the emotional aspects of this process.

In the quiet moments between calls and emails, I allowed myself a moment to wonder if this was really what was best for us. And if, in the rush to make everything perfect for Ivy, we were losing sight of what truly mattered—us.

The doorbell rang, and a woman in her early 50s, dressed in a simple but neatly pressed uniform, stood there. She had an air of efficiency about her, and her warm smile contrasted with the cold formality of the house. Linc welcomed her in with a nod and a brief introduction.

"This is Merly," Linc said, introducing her. "She'll be helping us with the household chores."

Merly nodded politely, her gaze flicking briefly to me before she headed toward the kitchen. I could tell she was someone who was used to being in control—her demeanor was calm but authoritative. As she began preparing dinner, the familiar sounds of chopping and sizzling filled the house.

I watched her for a moment, feeling a mix of curiosity and irritation. This was supposed to be our new home, and here was someone else taking over. I knew Linc had his reasons, but it struck a nerve.

"Linc, can we talk for a minute?" I asked, trying to keep my tone even.

He looked up from his paperwork, nodding. "Sure, let's go to the study."

We walked into the study, where Linc closed the door behind us. I took a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts. The sight of Merly bustling around the kitchen had been the final straw for me. I felt overwhelmed and wanted to voice my concerns.

"Linc, I appreciate that you want to make things easier, but I really don't think hiring Merly was necessary," I started, my voice wavering slightly. "I've managed on my own for years, and I can handle things around here. It's just—"

Linc cut me off, his expression serious. "Sign, you're not just a mom anymore. You're going to be a wife, too. And not just anyone's wife. You're marrying someone who's a big name in the industry. It's important for you to be seen at events, to present a united front."

I felt a pang of frustration. "I understand that, but—"

Linc's tone softened, but his gaze remained firm. "It's not just about appearances, Sign. It's about setting the right tone for our life together. We have a certain image to maintain, and that means you'll need to be present and engaged in this new role."

I looked at him, feeling a mix of sadness and resignation. "I just don't want to feel like I'm being sidelined. I wanted us to manage this together, not have someone else take over everything."

Linc sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I get that. I really do. But this is a new chapter for us, and there are aspects of it that require more than just our personal efforts. We need to make sure everything is in place so we can focus on our roles and responsibilities."

His words were practical and to the point, but they lacked the warmth and reassurance I had hoped for. I wanted to feel like we were in this together, that we were a team, not just two individuals managing a public image.

"I just hope you understand," I said quietly. "I'm trying to adjust to this new life, and it's hard when everything feels so out of my control."

Linc nodded, his expression softening a bit. "I do understand. I'm not trying to undermine you. I just want to make sure we're both prepared for everything that's coming."

We stood in silence for a moment, the weight of our conversation hanging in the air. I wanted to believe that Linc's intentions were good, that he was doing this for the right reasons. But it was hard not to feel a sense of loss for the simplicity and control I once had.

"Alright," I said finally. "Let's just try to make the best of it."

Linc reached out and placed a hand on my shoulder, a gesture of support that felt both comforting and distant. "We'll figure it out. We have to."

As we walked back to the kitchen, I couldn't shake the feeling that this new phase of our lives was starting with more challenges than I had anticipated. I wanted to trust that we could navigate them together, but for now, I had to accept that things were changing in ways I hadn't fully prepared for.