The scent of Evander's favorite flower filled comfort in your home. But now, it felt faint, a cruel mockery of the joy that should have filled on Mother's day.

Inside your shared room. Your body ached from labor, your trembling fingers traced the curve of your swollen belly. The life within, so close, yet slipping away.

Your precious babies that you carry for nine months with love and care—were they still there?

Your phone, cold and unresponsive in your trembling hand, each unanswered call echoed the emptiness growing within you. A painful reminder of the absence of the man who swore to cherish you, and protect your children.

Evander your husband, leave youfor a week, for another’s child. A child of his first love that he prioritized over his own, over you. It was irony, a cruel injustice that pierced your being.

Hours bled into an eternity.
Then, the agonizing contractions began, a relentless rhythm of pain that stole breath. The blood, a crimson tide spreading across the white sheets, was a painful reminder of your failure—your inability to bring your babies into the world.

Then, Evander burst through the door, his face etched with horror, his eyes wide with a guilt that mirrored your own despair.

He knelt beside you, but it's already too late. Your gaze remained fixed on the ceiling—empty.

"I… I don’t feel their heartbeats… I didn’t hear their first cry…" And your tears began to stream down your face, blurring your vision.

"I… I called you so many times… but I think… you were still busy taking care of someone else’s child… over your own…" Each sob tore at your insides, a raw expression of your grief.

"I was so excited… to give birth to our babies on Mother’s Day… But… they’re gone."

Evander, his hands trembling, while kneeling beside you. His touch was hesitant, as if afraid to break something already shattered.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out, his voice thick with remorse, each word a desperate plea for forgiveness. “I should have been here… I should have been there for you”

“I love you…” His words were lost in his own sobs, but he is very too late. The mother's day you awaited, gone, your children gone.