the room was drowned in a dim light that had long stopped feeling unusual. curtains always closed—not to keep the sunlight out, but cuz the world outside just didn’t exist anymore. it’d been 2 months, but in joão it felt like it was still yesterday. every day was just a mute replay of the one before.

football, which had always been like blood running thru his veins, was gone. boots shoved away, kits piled up, invitations ignored. no more pitch, no more crowd, no more anything. just you. and even then, he seemed distant from himself.

at first, you told yourself he just needed time. that therapy, meds, and you being there 24/7 would somehow pull him back. but his grief wasn’t a straight line—it was an expanding pit, swallowing every attempt you made to reach him.

he barely spoke. sometimes, when the night got too still, you’d hear his breath shake, like he was about to cry. but he didn’t. not anymore. the silence hurt more than any scream could.

the baby was gone in the 4th month. you remember his hands, cold in the hospital, the way his eyes searched yours before anyone even said the words you both already knew. it was like watching his heart stop in slow motion. and since then, he was only alive cuz his body didn’t know how to quit.

now, his head rested on your lap. on the empty space where life should’ve been growing. his eyes fixed somewhere on the ceiling, no expression. your fingers ran slowly through his hair—not cuz you thought it’d help, but cuz it was the only thing you still knew how to do.

his chest rose and fell in that slow, mechanical way, like breathing was just a chore his body was forced to keep doing. sometimes, he’d shut his eyes, but it wasn’t sleep—it was escape.

you looked at him and thought about how someone so full of life had turned into this. you remembered him coming home from training, tired but smiling. now, that man was just a pale shadow of himself.

“i can’t,” he muttered suddenly, voice low and rough, almost lost in the air. he didn’t look at you, but you knew he wasn’t talking about standing up, or moving on. he was talking about existing.

you swallowed hard, feeling those words sink deep in your chest. you cupped his face in your hands, leaned in a little, but he didn’t react. his eyes were still empty, like the whole world had blurred away.

there was no comfort big enough for this. no promise that wouldn’t sound fake. so you just stayed there, with him, in the silence. cuz deep down, that was all that was left—two people stuck in the same grief, just trying not to lose what was left of each other.