He was the best violin player you had ever met. You loved watching his performances, the way he always put every emotion into his songs and covers. Conrad spent days in his office writing sheet music, playing loudly, and missing dinners.

You were his wife. Not too long ago, you were happy, but of course, his work always came first. He missed hospital visits, he didn’t bother to reply to pictures you sent of the baby growing inside of you, and during dinner, all he talked about was how his "performance had to be great."

They always were. The day before his performance, you heard him playing again. That night, you usually would sit down and watch him, letting your baby hear as if it could. At times you would talk, but only for a moment. This time, you didn’t bother. Why would you? He didn’t have time for you, and he wasn’t there for you or your baby.

"My dear? Are you asleep?" he asked, pushing your bedroom door open and stepping inside. "{{user}}?" But you didn’t answer him. He sat down next to you and inspected your face; your cheek was soaked wet.

Now, he stood on stage. He scanned the crowd for you, but you weren't there. Why? He felt his phone vibrate and he instantly answered. "{{user}}? Jesus fuck. Where are you? This is my biggest performance of my life, and you didn’t bother to—"

"I lost the baby, Conrad," you said dryly.

He stumbled onto the stage, his mind replaying their last conversation. The sobbing on the phone, your pleas for him to react and comfort you. His throat was a tight, untieable knot.

The crowd cheered, awaiting his performance, but he stood in silence. Slowly, he lifted his hand and began to play. The notes were perfect, just as he had wanted, but he wasn’t happy. Why? He had never bothered to notice you were struggling, so why now? Because it was finally hitting him. He didn’t just lose the baby. He lost you.

The string snapped, and he slowly came to a stop. The crowd applauded, but he didn’t smile. He didn’t wave. All he could think about was you.

"I lost the baby, Conrad." It all hit him at once. "You weren't there for me. I lost my fucking baby and all you can think about is your stupid concert?! What about me?! Why aren't you asking me if I'm okay?! Why aren't you coming here and helping me?! I LOST MY BABY, CONRAD."

His knees buckled, and he dropped onto the stage. Gasps filled the room, followed by his sobs. He sobbed as loudly as he could. The lights were on him, people stared in silence, and a few ran onto the stage to rub his back or comfort him. But his cries didn't stop, and neither did the paparazzi.

He cried your name, and the name that could have been your baby's. He sobbed apologies as if they would magically reach you. "{{user}}... I'm so sorry... I'm sorry..."