Three Little Heartbeats

Chapter 38: Lingering Pain

The evening sky cast a dim light over the apartment as Alexia sat by the window, staring out at the fading horizon. The twins were asleep, and the house was quiet, but her mind was anything but still. Her thoughts drifted, as they often did, to the child she had lost—the third heartbeat that had once pulsed inside her. The baby that would never smile, never cry, never feel her arms around them. The hole in her heart felt as deep now as it had the day she learned of the loss.

She closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing, but the familiar ache in her chest returned, relentless and unforgiving. No matter how hard she tried to move forward, the grief was always there, lurking beneath the surface. And as much as she wanted to share that pain with Sandro, to let him in on the sorrow she carried, something held her back. Perhaps it was the fear that he wouldn't understand, that he would diminish the loss in the same way he had diminished so many other things between them. Or maybe it was because, deep down, she still blamed him.

Sandro hadn't been there when she needed him most, when her world had shattered and her heart had broken in ways she never thought possible. She had carried the weight of it alone, and that burden had forged a wall between them—one that neither of them knew how to tear down.

In the next room, Sandro was sitting on the couch, staring blankly at his phone. He scrolled through messages and emails, but none of them registered. His mind kept drifting back to the child he would never know—the child he had never even had the chance to meet. Every time he thought about it, a wave of guilt crashed over him. He had missed everything—the pregnancy, the loss, the birth of his surviving children. And now, even though he was trying to be present, trying to make up for lost time, the shadow of that third child hung over him, a constant reminder of his failure.

He had barely spoken to Alexia about it, and she hadn't opened up to him either. There were moments when he wanted to ask her, to know how she had felt, what she had gone through when she learned that one of their babies wouldn't survive. But the words always got stuck in his throat, tangled with his own grief and regret.

They had come so far in co-parenting the twins, tentatively building a fragile peace between them, but the unspoken grief over their third child remained a wedge between them. Every time Sandro looked at the twins—his beautiful, healthy children—he couldn't help but think of the one that wasn't there. The empty space in the nursery, the silence that should have been filled by another cry. He knew Alexia felt it too, but every time he tried to broach the subject, her walls went up.

Alexia stood up from the window, feeling the need to move, to do something—anything—to distract herself from the sadness that weighed on her. She found herself in the hallway, standing outside the nursery door, her hand resting on the doorknob. The twins were sound asleep, blissfully unaware of the weight their parents carried. As she peered inside, her eyes landed on the empty crib that had once been intended for the third baby.

Tears welled in her eyes, her throat tightening as the familiar wave of grief washed over her. She hadn't had the strength to take down the crib. It had become a monument to the baby she had lost, a painful reminder of what could have been. She tried to hold it together, but the sight of the empty crib broke something inside her.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't hear Sandro approach until his voice broke the silence.

"Alexia?"

She turned around, quickly wiping her eyes, trying to hide the tears. But Sandro could see the pain written all over her face. He didn't say anything for a moment, his gaze drifting to the empty crib. He hadn't been in the nursery in a while, and the sight of it hit him hard. The realization that there should have been three babies in the room, not just two, was like a punch to the gut.

"I didn't know you still kept it," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

Alexia bit her lip, struggling to find her words. "I couldn't... I couldn't bring myself to take it down."

Sandro stepped closer, his heart aching at the sight of her pain. He had seen Alexia strong, resilient, always holding herself together for the sake of their twins. But in this moment, she looked fragile, vulnerable. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her that it wasn't her fault, that they could get through this together—but how could he, when he wasn't even sure how to handle his own grief?

"I think about them, too," Sandro admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Every day."

Alexia's breath caught in her throat. It was the first time Sandro had acknowledged the loss out loud. She had wondered if he even thought about it, if he felt the same crushing weight of their child's absence. And now, hearing him say it, the floodgates of her own emotions began to open.

"I blame you," she said, her voice trembling with the confession. "For not being there. For leaving me to go through it alone."

Sandro's heart dropped at her words, but he didn't argue. He had known this was coming, that she had held this resentment deep inside her for months. And the worst part was that she was right. He hadn't been there when she needed him most, and now he was paying the price for it.

"I know," he said quietly, his voice filled with regret. "I should have been there. I should have been with you."

Tears filled Alexia's eyes as she turned away from him, unable to bear the weight of her emotions. "You missed everything, Sandro. You missed the ultrasounds, the kicks, the joy—and you missed the pain. I lost one of our babies, and you weren't there to hold me, to help me through it. I had to do it alone."

Sandro's chest tightened as he stepped closer to her, wanting to reach out, but unsure if his touch would be welcome. "I'm sorry, Alexia," he said, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry."

Alexia shook her head, wiping her tears as she finally turned to face him. "Sorry won't bring them back. Sorry won't take away the pain."

Sandro nodded, his heart heavy. "I know. But I'm here now. And I want to be there for you, for them—for all of us. I know I can't change the past, but I want to help heal the future."

For a moment, Alexia stared at him, her heart torn between anger and the desire to let him in. She had carried the weight of their loss for so long, and a part of her wanted to share that burden with him. But she wasn't sure if she was ready to let go of the hurt.

The silence between them stretched, filled with all the things they hadn't said. They stood there, two grieving parents bound by the same sorrow yet separated by the scars of their past.

"We both lost something," Alexia said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "We both lost a part of ourselves when we lost that baby. And I don't know how to move forward from that."

Sandro nodded, his throat tight. "Neither do I. But maybe... maybe we can figure it out together."

Alexia looked at him, searching his eyes for something—some sign that they could heal, that they could move forward. She didn't know if she could forgive him yet, but maybe, just maybe, they could begin to mend the pieces of their shattered hearts.

Together.

It was a fragile hope, but it was a start.