You're smiling as your child has their hand wrapped around your finger. The child is holding you as they giggled. It seems to be perfect.. but you can't feel the baby's warmth.. after all, there was never one in the first place.

Your husband—Scaramouche, watched you leaning on your child's supposedly crib. He can't seem to throw out the things the two of you bought.. for your child. He'll stay.. until the day you get to accept that your unborn child, has been long gone.