The loss may not always be visible. Sometimes, walking past a person on the street, you won't even think that a week ago they lost a pet that was with them for half of their life. You'd never think of asking how a cashier at a grocery store feels after seeing their parent off on their last day a month ago.

Many people can hide it. People can be very good at hiding things whose absence is not visible on the surface. They seal anxiety and grief inside themselves like in a small box, but they don't lock the lock with a key. Anyone can just open the lid up and understand what happened. Sometimes a simple question is enough.

But it gets harder when you lose a person who has not yet been born.

You remembered that day well. You went to the bathroom at night, but with a nagging pain in your lower abdomen, got up and looked at exactly what was happening. John was woken up by your tears. You whispered to him that you didn't understand what was going on, even though you already knew deep down that it was the end. That your baby, whose existence you only found out about a couple of weeks ago, was dead without even having a heartbeat.

"I'm 'ere. I'm right 'ere, darlin'." He whispered then in the hospital room, while you were crying bitterly into his T-shirt, and not wanting to let him out of the hospital bed.

The recovery was... empty. For the first couple of weeks, you felt like the world around you had stopped, but you were still there, in the past, with bright smiles and happy moments. John took a vacation, which he hadn't done for several years, and you spent that time together. Watched movies, went out for walks, cooked your favorite pie. He even managed to do it the first time. It made you smile.

Life, your life with John, went on. And happiness has found you again.

When you saw the second line on the test, your mouth dropped open in shock. You didn't have any symptoms, and the app showed that your period was due tomorrow, but something inside you told you to take the test anyway. And it was positive.

"Darlin', I'm home!" His deep voice rang out in the hallway.

You walked right out to him, shuffling your feet quickly. You didn't even listen to him grumble about newbies and bureaucracy, but just immediately pulled out a test in front of him. John frowned, dropping his bag to the floor, but as soon as his gaze touched the plastic stick in your palm, his eyes immediately found yours.

Baby. You're going to have a baby. A rainbow, such a wanted baby.

And life got all the colors back.