"Tae..." Her voice was a fragile whisper, heavy with exhaustion, barely audible through the oxygen mask. Her eyelids fluttered, just parting enough to see me through the sedative's haze.

My head snapped up, heart lurching with a mix of terror and hope. "Y/N..." I whispered, my voice trembling, raw with the weight of the truth I hadn't yet spoken. Her presence, her voice, was a lifeline, but it also tightened the noose of dread around my chest.

Her dry lips parted, struggling to form words, her strength drained by hours under sedation. "Taehyung, how... how did the procedure go?" she trailed off, her voice faint, lashes fluttering as she fought to stay awake.

My heart stopped, the blood draining from my face. The question was a blade, slicing through the fragile wall I'd built to hold myself together. I couldn't speak, couldn't move, my mouth frozen as the reality of what I had to say loomed like a storm.

Her hand drifted to her belly, no longer as round as it had been, and her brows twitched, confusion flickering through her drowsiness. "Our baby... is our baby okay now?" she asked, her voice soft but heavy with hope.

My throat clenched, air trapped in a vise of guilt. I couldn't tell her. I couldn't be the one to shatter her. Her words echoed, each one a dagger to my heart.

"Is it out of danger?" she pressed, her palm flattening against her belly, only to gasp at the unfamiliar ache, her body betraying the truth her mind hadn't yet grasped.

I flinched in my seat, my body rigid, unable to blink, unable to breathe. The dim room felt suffocating, the hum of the heart monitor a cruel reminder of her life-and the one we'd lost.

"Tae?" Her voice cut through the silence, fragile but insistent, her eyes flickering open wider, searching for me, as if afraid I was just a dream. I wished it was-a dream we could wake from, where our baby was still ours.

"Y/N..." I tried, my voice breaking, my brows furrowing as I fought the tears burning my eyes. I took her hand, gently pulling it from her belly, my fingers trembling as I searched for courage I didn't have.

"Love," I managed, but her name was all I could choke out, the weight of the truth crushing me.

"Taehyung?" Her voice cracked, panic edging in as she shifted, propping herself against the pillow.

"Taehyung, what happened? You're scaring me." Her grip tightened, shaking my hand, her urgency piercing through the haze of my fear. Her eyes, wide and searching, begged for reassurance I couldn't give.

"Kim Taehyung!" she cried, a tear falling onto the back of my hand, hot against my cold skin. "Tell me our baby is alright, tell me what's going on! You're scaring me..." Her voice softened to a whisper, breaking my heart into shards.

I lifted my head, meeting her eyes-horrified, scared, confused, pleading for a truth I couldn't soften. I'd never seen her like this, so fragile, so broken, and it was my fault. My silence, my choice, had brought us here.

I shook my head, tears burning as they spilled over, my voice barely a whisper. "I'm so sorry." I said, burying my face in her thigh, the hospital sheets dampening with my sobs. "We had to abort it. It was necessary. I'm so so sorry."

"No." she whispered, her voice a ghost of itself, brittle and fading. "No, no, no!" Her hands pushed at me, then clutched my collar, yanking me close as her voice shattered into a scream.

"My baby, my baby-Taehyung! You can't say it's gone! You... you-how?-" Her cry ripped through the dim room, raw and primal, a sound that clawed at my soul, leaving it bleeding.

I clung to her, my face buried in her shoulder, my tears soaking the thin hospital gown as her screams reverberated in my ears, echoing off the sterile walls.

My own sobs mirrored hers, a desperate harmony of grief. "I'm sorry, Y/N," I choked, my voice muffled and breaking against her skin. "I had to save you. I couldn't lose you."

Her hands trembled, her grip on my collar slackening as her body shook with violent sobs, each one a knife twisting deeper in my chest.

I didn't dare lift my head, couldn't face the light fading from her eyes, the betrayal, the unimaginable grief I'd unleashed. I'd chosen her life, but in doing so, I'd shattered her world-and mine.

She gasped, shoving me back with a sudden, frantic strength, her cold hands cupping my face, nails digging into my cheeks as she forced me to meet her gaze.

"Tae, I want my baby back." she screamed, her voice fracturing into a wail that sliced through me like shattered glass. "Give me my baby back! Please-please." She begged, clinging to me as if I held the power to undo it all, her tears hot against my skin.

"I'm sorry..." I whispered, my thumbs brushing her cheeks, wiping at the endless stream of tears, guilt flooding me like poison. "I'm so sorry." My own tears slipped free, mingling with hers.

"No." she roared, shoving me harder, her voice a thunderclap even in her weakened state. "I don't want to hear that. I. Want. My. Baby. Back."

Shock rooted me to the spot, my eyes widening in horror as she turned her desperation on herself. Her hands flew to the IV lines snaking into her arm, nails scraping at the tape, yanking viciously at the needle. Blood welled instantly, a stark crimson trickle against her pale skin, staining the sheets and her gown.

"Y/N, no-stop!" I gasped, my voice cracking as I lunged forward, panic exploding in my chest. I grabbed her wrists, my heart thundering in terror, but she jolted against my hold, thrashing with a feral strength born of maternal agony.

"No! I want my baby!" she wailed, her body arching, fighting me as if I were the enemy. "You can't just decide that! You can't! Bring my baby back, Taehyung-bring it back!"

"Y/N, please-stop!" I sobbed, pulling her closer, my arms wrapping around her frail form as I pressed down on her wrist to stem the blood. Warmth seeped between my fingers, slick and horrifying, the metallic tang hitting the air.

My breaths came in ragged gasps, my vision blurring with tears. The heart monitor's beeps spiked, frantic and erratic, alarms shrieking to life-a piercing siren that shattered the room's fragile quiet.

"Y/N..." I breathed, horror choking me as I glanced at the pooling red on the sheets beneath her. "Doc-doctor!" My shout cracked, desperate, echoing down the hall.

The door flew open, slamming against the wall as the doctor and nurses burst in, their footsteps pounding urgent on the linoleum.

"Mr. Kim, step back!" the doctor commanded, her voice sharp but controlled as she surged to Y/N's side. A nurse jabbed a syringe into the IV line, the sedative flooding in as others restrained her gently, securing the tubes.

I staggered back, my hands shaking uncontrollably, slick with her blood, my chest heaving with gut-wrenching sobs. They swarmed around her, stabilizing the lines, murmuring calm commands as Y/N's thrashing slowed, her wails dissolving into whimpers.

The doctor glanced at me, her expression a mix of sympathy and resolve. "She's stable now, but this reaction... it's expected. We'll keep her sedated a bit longer. Go wash up, Mr. Kim."

I nodded numbly, my gaze locked on Y/N's still form, the alarms silenced but the echo of her screams ringing in my ears. Her condition had spiraled worse than I'd feared, her grief a storm that nearly tore her apart. I'd saved her body, but her heart-our hearts-lay in ruins.

As the nurses worked, I sank against the wall, my bloodied hands pressed to my face, the metallic scent clinging to my skin like a curse.

Can it get worse than this? What did we ever do to deserve this-this pain, this heartbreak?

Two days had passed.

Two days since I lost the one thing I held closest to me. Two days since they told me to try to move on, because my baby wasn't there anymore.

But how do you move on from something that lived inside you-that was you?

They said it was just a procedure, that it would "prevent" the molar pregnancy or whatever it was that threatened my baby. But when I closed my eyes, trusting them with both our lives, I woke up to a hollow room and silence so cruel it killed me.

And what did they tell me?
"It was necessary."

Necessary. The word echoed like a hollow echo in my skull. Maybe it was necessary to save me. But now, how do I live with this hollow ache, this soulless shell where joy used to bloom?

My body felt foreign, numb to pain or touch, adrift in a fog that dulled the world. I couldn't think, couldn't process the sterile beeps of monitors or the pitying glances from nurses.

I was trapped in that moment-Taehyung's tear-streaked face, his desperate apologies as he confessed he'd chosen me over our baby. Guilt had carved lines into his features, broken him into a man begging forgiveness, as if he were the villain. And in the storm of my grief, maybe he was-betraying the promise of safety, the dreams we'd built together.

My baby was my world since the day I found out I was pregnant. Every morning sickness, every dizzy spell, every fear-I bore it with love because it meant my baby was still there. I had already named it. I'd bought clothes, plushies, cute blankets. There's a room waiting at home with pastel walls and a crib that will never be used.

How am I supposed to go back there now?
How am I supposed to live in a house filled with echoes of a heartbeat that doesn't exist anymore?

How do I breathe knowing my body-I might have failed, that my complications doomed the child I loved most?

Guilt, betrayal, resentment-they coiled inside me like thorns, turning every breath to ash. My world had darkened to a stormy midnight, endless and unrelenting.

I'd forgotten how to speak, how to eat, how to exist. Water tasted like regret, food like betrayal. My body seemed to conspire with my heart, shutting down as if to punish me for surviving.

"Y/N..." Mom's voice was a gentle tremor as she lifted the spoon of rice pudding to my lips, the steam carrying a faint sweetness I couldn't stomach. I turned away, the metallic tang of hospital air clinging to my tongue.

"Y/N, you have to eat to live," she pressed, her voice cracking, soft but insistent. "You can't avoid it in this condition."

I stared at my hands, folded limp in my lap, saying nothing. The words felt too heavy, too final.

"Don't do this to me," she whispered, her voice breaking like fragile glass. "I can't see you like this. Please-just one bite, for your mother." The spoon hovered closer, trembling in her grip.

Her words shattered me, raw and pleading. Mother. The title I'd craved, the one I'd never hear from a child of my own. While my loss devoured me, it was devouring her too-her daughter, fading before her eyes. I couldn't let her drown in my pain.

I couldn't bear to hurt her too. So, I opened my mouth. The rice pudding was warm against my tongue, almost foreign. My mother smiled through tears, her hand caressing my hair.

The door clicked open, and the air shifted-heavy, charged, unmistakable. Taehyung. I didn't need to look; I felt him, the way the room dimmed under his quiet grief.

"We received the discharge papers." he said to Mom, his voice low, edged with exhaustion. To me, it was just noise, lost in the haze clouding my mind.

I kept my gaze down, away from him. I hadn't met his eyes since that night-since he held my hand and shattered my world.

He knew that too, felt the chasm between us, so he stayed distant, perched on the couch across the room like a shadow afraid to intrude. The tension hung thick, unspoken, a fragile thread neither of us dared pull, let it snap us both.

The doctor performed her final check-up, the nurse deftly removing the IV lines from my arms. I didn't flinch at the sting-numbness had stolen that from me too. Their voices blurred, words like "therapy" and "follow-up" floating past, meaningless in my fog.

For the first time in two days, Taehyung approached the bed, and my body betrayed me with a soft-flinch, instinctive and sharp. I turned to Mom, burying my face in her stomach, her arms wrapping around me like a shield.

"Let's go home, Y/N." he said softly, crouching to catch my gaze, but I squeezed my eyes shut, clinging to Mom's warmth.

"Taehyung," Mom said, her tone careful, laced with suggestion. "I was thinking... maybe I should take Y/N to my house for a while."

The silence that followed was suffocating. Maybe he looked at me, maybe he wanted me to say something, to give him a reason to refuse. But I said nothing.

"Okay," he said finally, his voice steady but laced with defeat. "I'll bring her things later."

Mom eased away, moving to pack my bag, leaving me exposed. Alone with him again, his presence froze me, his eyes a weight I couldn't bear.

He pulled up a chair, close enough that his warmth brushed my skin, and took my hand. My heart stuttered, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back, but it only crushed me further under the avalanche of guilt, loss, and unspoken blame.

"Take care, love," he whispered, his voice breaking at the edges. "Eat your meals, take your medicines on time." He leaned in, his hand settling gently on my head. "Go to therapy. Take care of yourself." His lips brushed my hair in a kiss, soft and fleeting. "I'll come see you every day."

I didn't reply. But his words sank into me like stones. Every day-as if the 3 hours of distance between our homes was nothing compared to the distance that had grown between us.

Maybe that was love. Maybe it still was.
But I didn't know what to do with it anymore. I wanted to scream, to push him away, to hold him and hate him all at once. Instead, I stayed silent, my hand limp in his, the chasm between us widening with every unspoken word.

________________

The house was too quiet that night. Not the comforting hush of our home with Taehyung, where silence wrapped around us like warmth. Here, it echoed-hollow and accusing.

Every sound felt alien: the faint, relentless ticking of the clock in the my bedroom that didn't comfort me like it used to, the distant hum of the city, the padding of feet against the floor board.

My mother had helped me settle in my room. She'd drawn the curtains halfway, left the lamp dim, and stayed with me until I pretended to fall asleep. She kissed my forehead and whispered, "I'm right next door, baby."

The door clicked shut, and I opened my eyes to the darkness.

The room smelled faintly of sandalwood and old memories. The bed sheets were soft, freshly washed. The pillowcase smelled like the detergent I adored. But none of it felt real.

I sat up slowly, my body still weak from the surgery. My hands found my belly before I even thought about it-a habit my heart hadn't unlearned yet. My palm pressed against the flatness, where there used to be life, warmth, a heartbeat.

Now there was only stillness.

A shiver rippled through me, raising gooseflesh on my arms. I traced the thin fabric of my nightshirt, fingers ghosting over the place where I'd once felt flutters-soft, like butterflies testing their wings. I used to laugh when Taehyung placed his hand there, wide-eyed every time he thought he felt a kick and I told him it was too soon for that.

Now there was nothing for him to touch. Nothing for me to protect.

My chest tightened. I pressed my lips together, but the sobs broke free anyway -quiet at first, then loud, sharp, echoing off the walls.

I tried to muffle them with the blanket, but it didn't help. The sound clawed out of me, years of quiet prayers and months of love dissolving into one raw, broken cry.

"I'm sorry," I whispered into the empty room, my voice shaking. "I'm so sorry, baby... I tried. I swear I tried."

I curled into myself, hugging my knees to my chest. I thought of Taehyung's face-the way his tears had fallen when he told me he'd chosen me, the way he'd whispered that he couldn't lose me.

I hated him for that.
I loved him for that.
And I didn't know which one hurt more.

The air grew colder. My breathing came in uneven bursts. I wanted to call for my mother, to feel her arms again, to stop feeling like my own body was haunted. But I couldn't move. My grief had roots, and it kept me still.

When my tears slowed, I looked out the window. The moonlight cut through the curtains, painting the room silver. I whispered to it-not to the sky, but to my baby. My angel.

"Are you there?" I asked softly. "Do you hear me?"

Silence. Just the rustle of the trees outside.

"I miss you already," I breathed, my fingers pressing against my belly once more. "So much."

Then I lay back down, staring at the ceiling until my eyes burned and my tears dried against my skin.

For the first time since it happened, the truth fully settled in-My baby was gone.
And no amount of love in the world could bring it back.

The engine hummed to life with a low growl, the dashboard lights casting a cold blue glow across my knuckles as I gripped the wheel. The car felt too big, too empty-eight hours of highway stretching ahead like a sentence I had to serve alone.

Y/N's scent lingered faintly on the passenger seat, from when she leaned on the drive here, silent and distant. I dropped her at her mom's door, watched Mom guide her inside with an arm around her shoulder, and now... this. I was going home without her. Without us.

I pulled onto the dark road, the headlights cutting through the night like fragile blades. The radio stayed off-silence was better than some song that might summon her laughter, or the way she'd hum along to jazz on lazy drives.

My eyes burned, but I didn't wipe them. Let the tears blur the lines on the asphalt; maybe they'd wash away the guilt clawing at my ribs.

The highway unspooled endlessly, mile markers flashing by like accusations. Twenty miles. Thirty. Fifty. Each one a reminder of the distance she'd put between us-not just the physical miles to her mom's house, but the chasm I'd carved with one signature.

I chose her life over losing them both, and she looked at me like I was the thief who stole it. Her flinch when I touched her hand today, the way she buried into her mom's embrace-it replayed in my mind, a loop of rejection that twisted deeper with every mile.

The doctor had told me she'd need time. Therapy. Space. But what about me? How do I give her space when every instinct in me wanted to run to her, hold her, tell her that I'd undo it all if I could?

But I can't.
Because the truth is-I'd still make the same choice. Still save her, still choose her over and over again even if it meant losing her trust. And that's what kills me the most.

How do I fix this?

The question echoed, unanswered, in the cabin's stale air. I thought of the nursery we'd started to make-tiny clothes folded in the drawer, a mobile of stars she'd hung with a smile. Now it sat untouched, a tomb of what-ifs.

A sob caught in my throat, raw and unbidden. I slammed the heel of my hand against the wheel, the horn blaring sharp into the night-a futile scream against the void.

The road curved, headlights sweeping over empty fields, and memories flooded in uninvited: her glowing in cow-print pajamas on our anniversary, teasing me about my tears at the ultrasound; lazy mornings tangled in sheets, her hand guiding mine to feel a kick that never came. We'd been building a life, thread by thread, and I'd unraveled it to save her.

She hates me. The thought was a knife, twisting. But I couldn't blame her. I hated myself more-the man who played god in that operating room, trading our child's heartbeat for hers.

Yet, in the quiet terror of her seizure, with alarms screaming and nurses swarming, I'd known: without Y/N, there was no life to build. No nursery, no drives, no us. But knowing that didn't ease the ache, the fear that she'd never forgive me, that the distance would harden into something permanent.

The dashboard clock blinked 2:17 a.m. as the city lights flickered on the horizon, a distant promise of home. But home without her was just walls-echoing with her absence, the nursery's unfinished crib a silent accusation.

I'd go there, pack her things as promised, but what then? Drive back every day, three hours each way, just to sit on that couch across from her, hoping for a glance, a word, a sign she still saw me as hers?

Tears blurred the road again, and I let them fall. I love you, YN. The words I hadn't said today hung unspoken, a prayer to the empty seat beside me.

Forgive me. Come back to me. The highway stretched on, dark and unforgiving, carrying me toward a house that no longer felt like ours-but I'd drive it a thousand times if it meant a chance to mend what I'd broken.

Next morning>

The morning light was pale, hesitant-as if even the sun didn't want to intrude.

I woke up to the soft rustle of curtains swaying in the breeze. My mother must have opened the window before leaving for her morning chores. The smell of wet soil drifted in, mixed with the faint aroma of coffee.

It should've been comforting. But mornings didn't feel like beginnings anymore.

I sat up slowly, my body aching, my throat dry. I hadn't really slept. My eyes were swollen, and every blink felt heavy, like my lids were carrying the weight of last night's tears.

The phone on the bedside table buzzed softly.
For a second, I stared at it, confused-until I saw his name on the screen.

Taehyung♡

My fingers froze above the phone. My heart stuttered, then began to race, thudding painfully against my ribs.

He was calling.

Part of me wanted to answer. The part that still remembered his arms around me when I couldn't breathe, the warmth of his voice whispering promises into my hair.

But another part-the louder, heavier one-wanted to throw the phone away, to pretend he didn't exist, to protect the small fragments of myself that hadn't already broken.

The phone stopped ringing.

A moment later, it buzzed again.
Once.
Twice.
Persistent, like him.

My hand shook as I picked it up, pressing it to my ear without saying a word.

There was silence at first. Then-his voice.

"...Y/N?"

Just hearing him say my name made my throat close. He sounded tired, like he hadn't slept either. There was a pause, and I could almost picture him sitting on the edge of our bed, clenching the sheets into his fists, his other hand gripping the phone too tightly.

"Did you... did you sleep okay?" he asked softly. His voice trembled at the edges, as if he was afraid I'd hang up before he finished.

I didn't answer. The silence between us was a living thing-breathing, stretching, full of everything we weren't saying.

He sighed quietly. "Your mom said you didn't eat much yesterday. Please try to. You need strength, Y/N. Your body's still healing."

Still healing.
He said it like it was something simple.
But how do you heal from something that isn't a wound on your body-but a crater in your soul?

I swallowed, my lips parting, but no words came out.

He hesitated. Then, softly,
"I miss you."

The words hit like glass. Simple, fragile, cutting deep.

My chest tightened. I wanted to scream at him-Don't say that. Don't make me feel this when you're the reason I'm empty. Don't remind me that love still exists when it hurts to breathe.

But I stayed quiet. Because silence was all I had left that belonged to me.

When I didn't respond, he whispered again, "I'll come today, okay? Even if you don't want to see me. I'll just sit outside. I just... I need to be near you."

The line went quiet. Then-
"I love you, Y/N."
And the call ended.

I lowered the phone, staring at the dark screen. My reflection stared back-pale, hollow-eyed, unrecognizable.

Tears gathered, but I blinked them away.

Because I didn't know which truth hurt more-that he still loved me, or that I still loved him too. Yet, despite everything none of us knew where to start finding that love.

It took me three tries to summon the courage to ring the bell-my finger hovering over the worn brass, trembling like a leaf in the wind.

This house wasn't a stranger; I'd crossed its threshold countless times, back when Y/N would drag me here for lazy weekends, when her mom would pile my plate and feed me until I begged for mercy, her laughter filling the air like sunlight.

It used to smell of warm spices and shared stories, a second home woven with threads of family. Now, it reeked of rotten silence-a stale, suffocating quiet that seeped through the cracks in the door, mirroring the void in my chest.

A week passed since I'd driven her here-to her parents' place. But to me, it felt like a lifetime, each day a slow erosion of the man I used to be. Mornings blurred into office hours, a desperate escape from the emptiness of our house-the memories of our happy days mocking me cruelly.

I buried myself in work, spreadsheets and meetings a numb distraction, but every evening, as promised, I drove the four hours here. To see her. To breathe the same air, even if she wouldn't share it.

She never really met me. Some days, the door to her room stayed shut. Others, she'd be there-in the living room, curled on the couch-but her eyes slid past me like I was a shadow, a ghost she refused to acknowledge.

It was as if I'd ceased to exist, or worse, existed only as the architect of her pain. Each rejection carved deeper, but I came anyway, clinging to the fragile hope that one day, she'd look at me and see the man who loved her enough to break them both.

The door creaked open, and her mother appeared, her face lined with the quiet strain of these days. Her eyes softened for a fleeting moment, a flicker of the warmth I remembered, but her smile was a ghost-polite, hollow, not reaching the shadows under her eyes.

"Taehyung," she said quietly, her voice a threadbare whisper. "You came."

I nodded, forcing a warm smile that felt like glass in my throat, and handed her the fruit basket-grapes and strawberries, Y/N's favorites from better mornings.

In my other hand, I clutched the bouquet tighter, the white roses' petals soft against my cold fingers, their scent a faint, desperate plea for forgiveness. "Yes. How are you?" I asked with a smile and she simply nodded in acknowledgement.

"She's in the backyard garden." she said after a beat, her tone careful. She stepped aside, gesturing faintly before turning down the dim corridor, her footsteps fading into the house's hush.

I blinked, drawing a shaky breath that burned my lungs, and crossed the threshold. The air inside was still, heavy with the faint trace of jasmine from her mom's tea, but it did nothing to ease the knot in my chest.

My legs carried me through the familiar hall-past family photos where Y/N's smile beamed beside mine, frozen moments from a life that felt like a dream now-and out the back door to the garden.

The evening sun dipped low, painting the small yard in golden hues, the air thick with the scent of blooming flowers and freshly turned earth.

She sat on the grass beneath the soft sky, knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around them like a fortress against the world. Blades of grass clung to the hem of her loose dress, and her hair fell in untamed waves, catching the fading light like threads of forgotten gold.

She stared at the ground, fingers tracing idle patterns in the soil, as if searching for something buried.

My heart stuttered, a painful ache blooming as I approached, the gravel crunching under my shoes like brittle bones. She didn't look up-didn't acknowledge the shift in the air, the way the world tilted toward her.

I stopped a few feet away, the flowers trembling in my grip, and sank to my knees beside her, the damp grass soaking through my slacks, cool against my skin. Up close, she was even more fragile-pale cheeks hollowed by grief, eyes shadowed and distant.

"Why are you here?" Her voice was low, barely above the rustle of leaves, but it sliced through me all the same. She still didn't look at me, her gaze locked on the earth, as if it held truths kinder than mine.

"To see you, of course." I said softly, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the tears pricking my eyes. I shifted closer, the roses held out like an offering, their petals brushing the grass.

She didn't move, her fingers tightening around her knees.

But there was a pause, befoe I asked. "How was your therapy session?" I asked, out of habit.

The silence stretched, heavy with the weight of unsaid words, until she spoke again, her voice a fragile thread.

"Taehyung... didn't you say you fell in love with me again when we saw the first ultrasound?"

I nodded, my throat tightening, the memory flooding back-the flicker on the screen, her hand in mine, the way my heart had expanded beyond its bounds. "Yes," I whispered, voice thick. "I did."

She didn't even flinch as her eyes met mine. "Did you... fall out of love with me now?"

The question fell like a dagger to my heart, twisting itself brutally. My breath caught, my world stopped as my tears spilled silent without even realising and I reached for her hand, gentle, pleading.

What was she even asking?
Why was she even asking this?

"No, love-look at me. Please." I cupped her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks, my voice breaking like waves on stone.

"I love you. God, Y/N, I love you more than before-more than I can say with words. That ultrasound... it wasn't just the baby. It was you, carrying our dream, glowing like you held the stars. Losing it... it broke me, but it didn't touch this. Nothing could touch this, us."

I pressed her hand to my chest, over my hammering heart, as she stared at me unreadable. "You're my everything. My home. I'd choose you a thousand times, even if it kills me. I'm so sorry-for the pain, for the choice, for not being strong enough to fix this. But I'm here. I'll always be here. Begging, if I have to, for a chance to love you through it."

"Take me home."

The words hung between us, a fragile bridge over the chasm. My heart stuttered, hope flickering like a candle in the wind. "Home?" I echoed, voice barely a breath, my thumb tracing her cheek.

Her eyes drifted away, back to the soil at her feet. She didn't soften. She didn't lean in. But she didn't push me away either.

And for the first time in weeks, I felt the faintest pull toward the life we had before-not healed, not whole, but the first small step toward something beyond this grief.

__________________

A/n: This, my dear readers, is my favourite horror movie :)