The worst part was not the empty room and cradle at the end of the hallway. Nor was it the unused carseat sitting untouched by the front door. The piles of brand new baby clothes were painful to see and the stuffed toys haphazardly piled in the corner of your bedroom brought you to tears every time–but they weren’t the worst.
The one thing that killed your more than anything else was Klay's sunken eyes and his restless tossing in the middle of the night when he thought you’d fallen asleep. It was the forced smile he gave you in the morning and his clenched jaw as he started everyday by rediscovering that he was no longer going to be a father.
As you sat on the end of the bed, you listened to the shower run, watching the soft glow from under the bathroom door. It was 5 in the morning. You knew he’d tried not to wake you. You knew he’d feel bad that you were up this early, but your every sense had been on edge. Your eyes were open the moment his feet hit the floor.
As the shower shut off, you were assaulted with silence and you sighed with exhaustion, wishing you could sleep but knowing that you couldn’t. You heard him shuffle across the tile floor and the sink turned on. You knew his little morning routine by heart. He’d brush his teeth as he worked clumsily to dry himself off with his free hand.
You pictured him as he existed past the closed door, imaging all the mornings he’d done exactly this and all the days you’d waited patiently for him to come kiss you goodbye. He’d always think you were asleep, and you’d always let him believe it.
Your quiet thoughts were interrupted by a muffled sound however, one that tear tore your heart in two. You were immediately on your feet, inches from the closed bathroom door feeling your gut wrench as muffled sobs resonated in the wooden panels.
Your fist rapped softly on the door, but you didn’t wait for a response before nudging it open and slipping inside. His hands were planted firmly on the edges of the sink and he was slumped over. He had sweats sitting low on his waist and as you appeared behind him, he looked at you in the foggy glass of the bathroom mirror, desperately blinking away tears and trying to conceal his pain.
“Hey,” you whispered, coming closer. You moved your hand to rest on his lower back as you stood beside him, leaning against the counter top.
“Hey,” his voice was rough from crying.
“Klay, I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head, “It isn’t your fault. It’s just–it wasn’t meant to be, I guess.”
“That’s not true,” you ran your other hand up and down his arm soothingly, “Just because it went wrong doesn’t mean it isn’t mean to happen, alright? We’ll get it eventually.”
He closed his eyes, inhaling the smallest breath, “I should be helping you, Y/N. I should be trying to help you get over this. Not me. That baby–” his voice cracked.
“Shhh,” you mumbled, moving behind him and wrapping your hands around his waist. You softly let your chin rest on his shoulder, “That baby was our baby, Klay. And you were that baby’s dad and it’s awful. It’s terrible that he’s gone, or she’s gone or whatever it is. It’s this fucking cruel joke of life,” you shook your head, “But in a year, or in 5 years, or 10 years or whenever it happens, you’ll be another baby’s dad and hopefully, I’ll be that same baby’s mum and everything will be okay.”
A quiet fell over the small, cool bathroom. The only sound was the periodic drip of the shower.
“I wish we had him,” the vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard, “Tomorrow would’ve been the day, you know.”
You bit your lip, feeling a sharp pain in the back of your eyes as the tears threatened, “Yeah, I know.”
You felt him let out a breath, clenching his eyes shut, “One day, we’re gonna get it.”
You tilted your head to rest against his, meeting his eyes in the clouded mirror, “One day.”
Last imagine of the miscarriage series. Hope you liked them😃
Honestly I cried when I was writing these😢😢😢
