the moment you found out you were pregnant everything had changed, you two had tried being more careful, but it didnt work. the stress, and even the physical stress from morocco had affected you. affected the baby.

 the house was quiet. it was always quiet after you found out you’d lost the baby. you were curled up in bed, facing the wall, the weight of everything crushing down on you. 


John B’s footsteps creaked against the old wooden floorboards as he entered the room. you barely acknowledged his presence, staring blankly at the ceiling with your arms wrapped tightly around your stomach. he hesitated for a moment, leaning against the doorframe, watching you with a mix of concern.

“hey,” he said softly.


you didn’t respond.


John B walked over to the edge of the bed and crouched down so he was at eye level with you. his hand reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. “I know you don’t wanna talk,” he said, his tone patient. “but im not goin’ anywhere.”


tears pricked your eyes as you finally looked at him. his face, usually so full of life, now held a tenderness that nearly broke you.


he smiled faintly, trying to lighten the mood. “you know, I was thinking we could get out of here for a bit. go down to the water. maybe... I don’t know... build one of those ridiculous sandcastles we always made fun of? it doesn’t have to be pretty, just... something to distract you.”


you let out a shaky breath, unsure if you had the energy to even sit up. but his warm brown eyes searched yours, silently begging you to get up.