What We Lost | Fillie

Chapter Twenty One: Oliver

When Finn wakes up, he immediately notices the absence of Millie beside him, instead finding a cold, empty space where he had last seen her. He sits up in a panic but quickly finds the missing woman at the small desk in the corner of the hotel room. Her small figure hunched over the wooden table, fervently scrawling something onto a note-sized sheet of paper.

"Please tell me that's not a formal rejection letter." He says groggily, making her jump and turn around in her chair.

"Oh gosh! You scared me," She laughs, "and no, it's um— well, I had a dream last night. I think I—you're going to think I'm crazy, but I saw him. . . our baby."

"What?" He shakes his head, positive that he heard her wrong. She can't mean what he thinks she means. She can't have really met their son in a dream. . .can she?

She makes her way back to the bed and lies next to him, propping herself up on her elbow. She has an infectious smile on her face, "At first I was dreaming about the day I found out I was pregnant. . . and then the day I lost him. . .but then I was suddenly in this place that was just beautiful, with all these like, glowing people—"

"Woah-woah, slow down." Finn says, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Millie is right, this does sound crazy but he knows that crazy doesn't mean false.

"You think you. . .met our—" his voice shakes, ". . .our son?" His pupils dilate to the size of dimes.

"Yes." she takes his hand in hers, "He is absolutely perfect, Finn." Her forgiving eyes smile into his.

He stares back unblinking, his mind reeling with the desire to simply believe her though he can't exactly say he's convinced. He's always had a healthy dose of cynicism about him. "Wh-what does he look like?"

"Like you. . .and like me." she looks up, "He has your smile, and the most delicious little laugh." The corners of her mouth turn up as she talks, " . . he has my eyes, but they are a little further apart like yours." she lays her head on his shoulder and he wraps his arm around her, pulling her closer as he listens, trying to imagine the child she is describing to him, believing more and more with each word that she actually did see him. Their son.

"His hair is the color mine was when I was little, but more curly like yours. . .Very curly. He hugged me and I could feel it in my toes. He loves us so much. . . Finn, he is beautiful. I wish you could have seen him."

"You painted a perfect picture Millie," He blinks rapidly, trying to subdue the tears prickling in his eyes, "Did you talk to him?"

She nods, biting her lip, "He sounds British." She smiles, "Reminds me a bit of when Ava was that age. He even has the slightest little lisp."

Finn grins, imagining the adorable little boy that she is so joyously describing, "Did he—did he say what this name is?"

This has actually been bothering him a lot. Maybe things would have gone differently back in 2020 if they had a name for their baby. Of course it would have been impossible to choose one because they didn't know the gender, not until they lost him anyway. But if they had given him a name, maybe Finn's mind wouldn't have dismissed the whole situation so easily. Maybe he wouldn't have felt so stupid for the grief he did feel. A name would have given his grief somewhere to go, given him something more real to mourn. He had only ever seen the baby on those little black and white sonogram images and Millie only had the slightest protrusion from her lower abdomen when she miscarried. He never felt a kick or anything physical like Millie did, so when she lost him, Finn thought his grief wasn't justified, like he wasn't allowed to grieve something he never had. A name could have changed that.