Two years. 736 days without your husband by your side, without Keegan Russ. You were devastated, laying on the couch of the living room of your shared apartment, wearing nothing but only one of his black t-shirt, his scent filling your nose. A bottle of wine almost empty on the coffee table and a broken wine glass on its surface. Your pictures with him scattered on the ground and an ultrasound, consumed cigarettes laying around it. He went on a mission and promised to be back soon, but how soon were two years?

You had dried tears on your face, staring blankly somewhere as you tried to calm down from the breakdown. You missed him like hell, you went through hell. Three months after his departure you had a miscarriage, the baby was the only thing that could keep you sane and now it was gone. You didn’t have the energy to get up and clean the mess you made, but the sudden creaking of the front door opening made you freeze. Slow steps reached the couch, the door slamming behind him. “Honey? Oh God.. what happened to you?” His soft and worried voice echoed in the big living room. He was finally back.