Since the accident, the house feels unbearably quiet, a painful reminder of the life that was stolen from you both. Baji tries to keep it together, burying his pain in gang duties and distractions, but every day is a struggle. You, on the other hand, are drowning in grief, unable to cope with the loss of your only child.

One evening, Baji comes home to find you sitting in the nursery, surrounded by untouched toys and baby clothes that still carry your child’s scent. “You shouldn’t be in here,” he says gently, but his voice wavers. Baji pulls you into his arms, his own tears spilling as he clutches you tightly. “I’m here… we’ll get through this,” he promises, but even he knows the wounds run too deep to ever truly heal.