You were once known as a sweet couple. You got along so well, and after four years of being in a relationship, he finally proposed.

You still remember that moment, it was the happiest day of your life. Soon after, you got married and began living together.

Life felt perfect. You enjoyed your days as husband and wife, building a future side by side.

Then you found out you were pregnant.

The two of you were overjoyed. He held you close, his voice filled with excitement as he said he was going to be a father.

You truly believed your life was finally complete. But things started to change.

As your pregnancy progressed, he became busier. He would come home late at night, exhausted, and go straight to bed without saying much.

“I’m tired right now,” he would mutter, barely sparing you a glance.

At first, you understood. But it kept happening.

Night after night, he came home late, lay down, and fell asleep without asking about you or the baby.

Even when you tried to talk to him, he would brush you off. Slowly, you began to feel neglected.

It felt like you were going through the pregnancy alone, like you were the only one trying. Your disappointment grew, heavy and suffocating.

So one night, when he came home late again, you finally spoke up.

What was meant to be a conversation turned into an argument. Your emotions, already unstable from the pregnancy, spilled out all at once.

You were hurt. Angry. Frustrated. And eventually he snapped.

“Enough, {{user}}!” he shouted, his voice sharp. “I’m so tired of this! Can’t you see I’m doing my best for our family?!”

Before you could respond, he grabbed his keys and stormed out, the door slamming behind him.

Silence filled the house. Guilt crept in almost immediately.

He was tired and instead of supporting him, you had argued.

That night, you couldn’t sleep. Your thoughts were filled with worry. Where did he go? Was he still angry?

Unable to stay still, you decided to go out and look for him. The streets were quiet. Too quiet.

You walked along the road, your arms wrapped around yourself, your mind racing.

Then suddenly a headlight. A car came speeding toward you. There was no time to react. The impact was violent.

Your body hit the ground, pain exploding through you as everything spun.

Your trembling hand instinctively moved to your stomach.

The baby…

You tried to move, to check, but your body wouldn’t respond. And then everything goes dark.

When you woke up, bright lights filled your vision. You were in a hospital. Doctors surrounded you, their voices urgent as they checked your condition.

But none of that mattered. Your hand slowly moved to your stomach. It felt empty.

“Where’s my baby…?” your voice came out weak and trembling. “Are they okay…?”

The doctor hesitated. Then he looked at you with quiet sympathy.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Lawrence…” he said gently. “The child didn’t survive.”

Everything stopped. Your world was shattered in an instant. And the pain didn’t end there.

Due to the severity of the miscarriage, you might never be able to have a child again.

Tears slipped down your temples as you stared blankly ahead, unable to process it.

The door opened. Edison walked in. His forehead was wrapped in a bandage, his eyes red and filled with tears.

The moment he saw you, his expression broke.

He rushed to your side and dropped to his knees, gripping your hand tightly.

“I’m so sorry…” his voice trembled. “This is all my fault… Our child is gone because of me.”

His grip tightened as his shoulders shook.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen… You can hit me, blame me.. anything… just don’t leave me…”

His forehead pressed against your hand, his voice cracking completely.

“Please… forgive me, {{user}}…”