~𝙼𝙾𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙽 𝙳𝙰𝚈 𝙱𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙸𝙴 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙲𝙻𝚈𝙳𝙴~

𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕖

TRIGGER WARNING: TOPICS OF MISCARRIAGE

Wet. that's what Bellatrix felt when she rolled over at three in the morning, but not the good kind,the bad kind. the 'i probably peed the bed kind'. she flicked on the lamp beside her and climbed out of her and Tig's California king sized bed. There was a puddle, just not the color she was hoping. A medium sized puddle of crimson red laid beneath where she had been laying "Shit! Tiggy wake up! "Bellatrix rushed to explain as Tig frantically got dressed. "I think I'm having a miscarriage, we need to go to the hospital," she said, her voice trembling with fear and urgency. Tig's expression shifted from confusion to concern as he hurried to her side, ready to support her through whatever was to come.

Bellatrix sat nervously in the hospital waiting room, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Tig sat beside her, his leg bouncing up and down in agitation. The minutes felt like hours as they waited for news from the doctors. Finally, a nurse called out Bellatrix's name, and they were led to an examination room. The doctor explained that Bellatrix had indeed suffered a miscarriage. Tig wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as she cried. The loss was devastating, but they clung to each other, finding solace in their shared grief.

*

Bellatrix stood before Happy, her eyes filled with sorrow. "I need your help," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Happy looked at her, his expression unreadable. "What do you need?" he asked, his tone serious. Bellatrix took a deep breath. "I need your help burying yet another tiny pinewood box," she said, her voice breaking slightly. Happy's expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. Without a word, he nodded, silently offering his support. Together, they faced the painful task ahead, finding strength in each other's presence.

The tiny woman's heart felt heavy as she pulled into the Charming cemetery. The weight of her grief seemed unbearable as she parked the car and stepped out, the cool air of the evening brushing against her skin. She walked slowly, the gravel crunching beneath her feet, each step echoing the heaviness in her heart. As she reached the grave site, she knelt down, placing the tiny pinewood box gently on the ground. Tears streamed down her face as she whispered a final goodbye to her precious little one.

The rumble of motorcycle engines filled the air as the club slowly rode into the cemetery. Bellatrix's heart skipped a beat as she saw Tig approaching, his gaze filled with concern and sorrow. He reached her side, wordlessly wrapping his arms around her, offering silent support as they stood together, surrounded by their family. The brothers of SAMCRO stood solemnly, paying their respects in their own way, showing their unwavering support for their brother and his Ol'Lady in their time of need. Clay was the first one besides her lover to approach Bellatrix "My baby shouldn't be burying another baby. Pops is so sorry, sweetheart" said her father softly Clay's words hit Bellatrix hard, and tears welled up in her eyes. She leaned into Tig's embrace, finding solace in his strength. Despite the pain, she felt a sense of unity with her club family, knowing they were all there for her. Clay's apology was unexpected, but it touched her deeply. She nodded, acknowledging his words, grateful for the support, even from unexpected sources.

Bellatrix slipped out of her lover's embrace and into her father's, seeking comfort in his familiar presence. "Dad, why does this one hurt so much worse than the last one?" Her voice was a mere whisper, filled with raw emotion. She nervously played with the crocheting of her cardigan, a subconscious gesture betraying her inner turmoil.

Clay held his only daughter tightly, his embrace offering what little comfort he could provide. "Because you didn't have any control in this situation. With the last one, you did. You had hope for this one, sweet angel," said the older man, his voice gentle yet filled with sorrow. He ran his arthritic hand through his daughter's hair, a soothing gesture meant to offer solace in their shared grief.