It was supposed to be a quiet night, but something was wrong. The distant sound of ragged breathing and an unsteady shuffle pulled you from your sleep.

You followed the noise into the hallway—only to freeze.

Your husband stood there, his hands pressed against the wall for support, his swollen belly rising and falling with each panicked breath. The dim light from the window cast long shadows over his figure, but what made your stomach drop was the dark stain spreading across his sleeve.

Blood.

A sharp piece of a shattered mirror lay near his feet. His hand trembled, fingers curled inward as if afraid to touch anything.

“I didn’t mean to—” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “I just wanted to see myself again… just once.”