{"id":259338,"date":"2026-07-13T16:55:55","date_gmt":"2026-07-13T13:55:55","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/embers-in-our-past-stefanie-castro\/"},"modified":"2026-07-13T16:55:55","modified_gmt":"2026-07-13T13:55:55","slug":"embers-in-our-past-stefanie-castro","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/embers-in-our-past-stefanie-castro\/","title":{"rendered":"Embers In Our Past – Stefanie Castro"},"content":{"rendered":"
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\u201cYes, but I am not pregnant, Rios. I swear. I got my period a while ago.\u201d \u201cAre you sure that wasn\u2019t implantation bleeding?\u201d he counters. \u201cHow in the world do you know about implantation bleeding?\u201d Is this guy for real? \u201cFour sisters, remember?\u201d He smirks. He stalks over to the elevator and, this time, presses the button. He salutes me on the way in once the doors open and finally goes inside. I close the door and go about my day.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m finally feeling better once the ginger ale hits my system. I get my house in order a bit and put my computer at the kitchen table in hopes of getting some work done before I decide to call it a night. An hour passes before there\u2019s a knock on the door. I check the peephole and see Rios standing on the other end. It\u2019s only then I realize he probably wants his sweater back, and I never even put it in the dryer.<\/p>\n

I swing the door open and am immediately greeted with a plastic bag. \u201cWhat\u2019s this?\u201d I ask. \u201cIt\u2019s the damn test,\u201d he says, sounding annoyed either with himself or with me. \u201cI told you\u2060\u2014\u201d \u201cYeah, yeah, do what you want with it. But at least I know I did all I could. Also, I had a sweater in my car, so you can just give it to Malloy, and he can give it back to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

He turns back and is already leaving my floor. \u201cRios\u2014\u201d \u201cI know. You\u2019re welcome.\u201d He waves without looking at me. I smile, knowing he might actually have a heart deep down. He\u2019s just been a bit prickly lately. It\u2019s been hours. Four hours if I\u2019m being honest, and I just stare at the damn box. I can\u2019t even open it. The last time I had one of these in my possession, all it did was bring heartache. I hate these damn boxes.<\/p>\n

I hate the significance of the fucking contraptions they house. I hate the line. I don\u2019t even say lines plural because, for me, it\u2019s never been two lines. One fucking line is all I\u2019ve ever seen staring back at me. I don\u2019t even know the feeling of two lines.<\/p>\n

And I know what my future holds. One fucking line. But now what Rios has said\u2014that damn pregnancy whisperer\u2014is on repeat in my mind, and I need to know. He brought me the test, so I need to take it. It\u2019s like an addict who needs another hit.<\/p>\n

I remember having these tests in my house, and I would take all the tests like I needed to see if each one had the same result\u2014as if one would differ from the other.<\/p>\n

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I WALK HOME, the spring air warming my skin after the coldest winter we\u2019ve had in Boston in years. I make sure the coffees are positioned securely as I maneuver through the streets, bringing Abby her favorite drink, along with a chocolate croissant. She always eyes it when we go into Beans of Mass but hasn\u2019t gotten it in a few months. We need a fresh start. I know everything the doctor said led to a slew of emotions that we are still processing, but I think having a plan is better than nothing.<\/p>\n

And having each other is what matters, no matter what. We can tackle anything\u2014together. But that phone call the other day really set us back emotionally. I know she has felt even more upset in the last couple of weeks. I found her sitting on the floor of our bathroom, clutching her phone, defeat written across her face.<\/p>\n

I had to pry her phone out of her hands as she shook, telling me her body failed her. The pregnancy didn\u2019t stick, confirming what the woman at the office said after we tried another round of IVF. It doesn\u2019t matter how many times I try to erase the pain, it\u2019s still there when I close my eyes.<\/p>\n

Each time I look at her, all I see is the pain that took over her face that afternoon. All I want to do is fix this\u2014fix us. But in the last few years, parts of ourselves have fallen to the side. Getting pregnant started off as a happy occasion, a fun one, if I\u2019m being honest. In the first few months of unsuccessful attempts, we chalked up the inability to conceive as simply a timing issue.<\/p>\n

Being so young, we kept chanting the same mantra\u2014it wasn\u2019t our time, but it will come. But as two failed tests turned into ten, it felt like I could hear her heart breaking within her chest. And her heartbreak simply led to my own. I still remember the moment I fell in love with Abby because my heart wasn\u2019t even looking for anything beyond a mere hookup. After only a glance in her direction, all the pieces of my life that felt difficult were easier to lift. I could carry whatever problem I faced head-on because I knew she was the person I would come home to.<\/p>\n

Even when things got harder with us trying to have a baby, I knew no matter what, we would get through this together. She\u2019s my safe space, and I know I\u2019m hers. I reach our house and turn the key to the front door, that extra spring in my step from knowing I get the next few days off to spend with my girl. Now that the weather is improving, maybe a walk down near Gael\u2019s Stadium, our local baseball team, is in order.<\/p>\n

Even a walk along Boston Harbor might do us some good.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.<\/em><\/p>\n

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