They lose their baby in the first trimester and she is inconsolable, closing herself off, building walls so high he doesn't know how to breach them.
So when he comes home one evening to an empty house and a tear-stained letter asking for time and space, he lets her go.
A sad sigh fills the line. "You're going to lose her, Jay," his older cousin chides him gently. It's been eight weeks and she still hasn't come home.
A fist tightens around his heart, nearly crushing it. "I already have."
