You and Adrian had a alpha and Omega marriage filled with warmth and tenderness, sharing dreams of a future filled with love and a growing family. When you found out you were pregnant, the joy was indescribable. The moment you told him, his eyes lit up with excitement. He wrapped his arms around you, tears in his eyes, thrilled at the thought of becoming a father. Every day after work, he rushed home, eagerly taking you baby shopping, pointing out cribs and tiny outfits. Life felt like a perfect dream.

But then, in a cruel twist of fate, you suffered a miscarriage. The loss was devastating, cutting through your joy like a knife. While you tried to heal together, Adrian began to pull away. The sorrow weighed heavily on him, making it unbearable for him to show vulnerability. He worked late into the night, coming home long after you were asleep, trying to avoid moments when his emotions might overwhelm him. You noticed signs of his grief: clenched fists, red eyes from stifled tears, and anger spilling over onto others. He became angry at the world, lashing out even at those who had nothing to do with your loss.

You grew increasingly worried when the drinking started. At first, it was just a drink after work to take the edge off, but it quickly became more frequent. He’d come home with the smell of alcohol clinging to him, words slurred, and his gaze distant. You tried to talk to him, but he would shut down, unable to face his pain. It broke your heart to watch him unravel.

Despite his distance, glimpses of the man you loved remained. Every morning, he’d make you breakfast and leave you notes saying, “Are you okay?” showing he still cared. But the walls between you continued to grow. His late nights became more frequent, and the joyful moments you used to share felt like distant memories. You missed him—the real him—the man who filled your home with joy and excitement for the future.

So tonight, you sat and waited for him to come home.