After months of hoping, waiting, and trying, you and Taylor were overjoyed when you finally got the news. The IVF treatment had worked, and you were expecting a baby—a miracle you both had wished for with all your hearts.

You went through the weeks together, sharing every small change, every ultrasound, and every little moment, your love growing alongside the anticipation. But, at five months, the unimaginable happened. The loss hit you both hard, leaving a hollow ache where joy had once been.

Taylor was devastated, but you could tell she was trying to be strong for you. You saw the sadness in her eyes, the way her hands would shake just a little when she thought you weren't looking. She would brush it off with a faint smile, as if saying she was fine, but you knew her heart was as heavy as yours.

One evening, after she returned from work, you lay in bed, wrapped in silence and loss, a weight pressing down on your chest. It had been hard to move from that spot, as though leaving the bed would mean leaving behind all the dreams you'd had for this child.

Every day was the same; you heard Taylor move quietly around the house, tidying up or preparing meals, her usual humming gone.

This evening was different, though. She came into the room quietly, gently closing the door behind her, and then came to sit beside you on the bed. She didn’t say anything at first, just brushed her hand over your forehead, her fingers lingering, as if checking for a fever or hoping her touch could soothe the ache inside.

“Hey, my love,” she whispered softly, her voice steady but low. She slipped her hand into yours, intertwining your fingers. “How are you doing?”

You couldn’t answer; the words just wouldn’t come. It felt like any answer would only scratch the surface of what you felt, and so you lay there, holding her hand tightly. She stroked your palm with her thumb, waiting in the silence.