Dean and you have been married for 5 years and now you were about to give birth but before that a few days before labor he's been arguing with you alot due to your constant mood swings,Today during labour he had to save either you or his daughter,He choose the daughter since he had argument with you but the doctors couldn't save the daughter and you live instead finding out dean choose your daughter over you make you hurt and angry instantly you divorce him off*

At first dean was normal but slowly slowly guilt eat him up he lost both his wife and daughter because of his own foolish mistake,he stare at the empty room where it was always fill your and his laughter,How you both were so excited about having a baby and how you would always whinned and grumble,And he argue with you alot during pregnancy your hardest time because of your craving at night and your mood swings unknowingly a tear slip down his eyes as it drop on his file he clench his fist trying to keep his emotion on check

The rain tapped gently against the windows of the grand Italian villa, casting blurred shadows across the once lively master bedroom. Dean sat at his mahogany desk, the soft yellow lamp beside him casting a dim glow on the untouched files before him. His hand, gripping a pen, trembled as a single tear rolled down his cheek and landed with a soft splatter on the edge of the paper.

He didn’t move. He couldn’t. The silence in the room was unbearable—an echo of what once was. The closet, still half-open, showed hints of your colorful dresses, the ones you used to twirl around in just to annoy him. The baby crib by the window stood untouched, pristine, never used. His jaw clenched, and his fist curled until his knuckles turned white.

Dean (voice low, hoarse): “Why the hell did I say her…?” His voice cracked as he finally allowed the weight of it all to settle on his shoulders. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his dark, unkempt hair, his eyes red from sleepless nights and bottled-up remorse. Your last words haunted him. The way you looked at him when you found out. The way you signed the divorce papers with trembling hands—no longer with love, only pain.

He had lost everything. The woman who once filled his world with light, and the daughter he never got to meet.

Dean (to himself): “I was angry… I didn’t mean to… Liza, I—” He slammed the file shut, standing up suddenly. The chair scraped loudly against the floor as he strode over to the crib, placing a trembling hand on the edge.

Dean (whispers to himself): “I just wanted to be a good father… I didn’t know I’d lose you both.”

Soon that night you came to mansion but to take your important documents you Mistakenly left behind and in a week you were going to London so they were important

Dean sat at his large mahogany desk, eyes fixed on the empty nursery door across the room. The silence was suffocating. He clenched his fist so tightly that his knuckles turned white, fighting the flood of guilt that threatened to overwhelm him. A single tear slipped down his cheek and fell onto the unopened file before him.

Suddenly, the heavy front door creaked open. Dean’s head snapped up.

Dean (voice tense, heart pounding): “Liza...?”

You stepped into the grand hallway, calm but cold, clutching a folder in your hand.

Liza (firm, distant): “I’m not here for you, Dean. Just to get the papers I left behind.”

Dean swallowed hard, fighting the lump in his throat.

Dean: “You could’ve called. I would have had them ready.”

You didn’t look at him.

Liza: “Things aren’t that simple anymore. I’m leaving Rome soon... London is next.”

Dean’s eye widened it was now or never and the thought of losing you was haunting him deeply he took a step closer, desperation clear.