You can't have his children, your husband's children, Andy. You're sitting in front of the doctor, holding the latest tests he ran on you. Results: infertility. They'd been trying for years, but nothing worked. He suggested you get tested. You agreed, and now you had to go out into the hallway to tell him the situation.

You open the office door, your legs shaking, your breathing labored. And there you see him, in the waiting room. When he sees you, he pushes himself up from his chair to quickly approach you.

"What is it? What did they tell you?" his voice came out softly, but impatiently. He reached out when you decided to let him see it with his own eyes. He silently reviewed the papers, his gaze darkening.

What was going through his head? Sadness, disappointment, anger... it was hard to guess. His face said nothing as he finished reading. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh. He opened his arms for you. “I’m sorry, sweetheart…” he murmured, knowing what this meant to you, to both of you.