◎ 𝘿𝙚𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙞𝙩: 𝘽𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙃𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙊𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙨 ◎

Mother's Day

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A/N: A Mother's Day special. Go hug your mothers and tell 'em you love 'em!

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     You were married once. You were pregnant. You were happy and excited to raise a family of your own.

     Before the 20th week into the pregnancy, you'd gone in to get an ultrasound to find out the gender of the baby. You were excited to know, and so was your husband.

     Once you'd gone in, they rubbed the gel on your belly before placing the probe on it and looking to the screen.

     Your husband held your hand as you both watched the screen.

     You weren't sure exactly what you were looking at, but you were hopeful it was a little boy.

     The doctor turned to you with a disheartened look in her eyes. The mask she wore concealed the rest of her face, but you could tell that something was wrong.

     Your heart dropped when she told you.

     She apologized, patting your shoulder, and she left the room.

     You husband had just sat there, looking like the life had drained from his eyes.

     After that incident, everything changed.

     You fell into a deep depression.

     Your husband became sort of cold, and he paid less and less attention to you.

     That didn't help your situation.

    You grew more and more distant from each other and eventually became sick of it, filing for divorce.

     It was done, and you were free...

     ...free from the confines of that suffocating marriage, but not free from the constricting iron grip that the depression from the miscarriage had on your entire body and mind.

     You'd been weighed down over the years, falling apart piece by piece.

     You'd wanted to try again, raising a child on your own since you'd always wanted a child, but had been told by your doctors that you'd become infertile after having the baby removed.

     Your world cracked again, and you never thought you'd be able to sink lower since you lost the baby.

     After a while, having had enough of sitting around, you decided to join the police force, maybe become a detective.

     You did just that.

     Going on investigations in the homicide department helped keep your mind off of everything else, and you were surprisingly not bothered much by seeing corpses.

     You thought you'd grow ill at the sight of one after holding a corpse inside you for God only knows how long.

     But, however, you were fine.

     Not too long after joining the DPD, you'd met Lieutenant Hank Anderson.

     He was about your age, and obviously a bit rough around the edges.

     He was nice enough, however.

     ...when he wanted to be.

     You grew acquainted with him, occasionally working with him on different homicide cases.