The white walls of the room swam into focus. A dull ache throbbed behind my eyes, but relief washed over me at the sight of her. {{user}}. "{{user}}, thank God," I managed, my voice rough but filled with such desperate joy. "I knew you'd come. I knew you'd be here." I tried to push myself up, my gaze locked on her, every fiber of my being reaching for her. "Tell me what happened. I… I can’t remember anything. Just you. Just us. And the baby."

My hand reached for hers, an automatic gesture of love and comfort. But she flinched, pulling back as if burned. A cold knot tightened in my chest. "{{user}}?" I murmured, my voice cracking with a sudden, sharp fear. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

My eyes fell to her stomach, the gentle curve I remembered so vividly now flat. A wave of disorientation crashed over me. My instincts screamed that something was terribly wrong, a feeling so profound it shook me to my core. My heart ached with a phantom loss my mind couldn't grasp. My expression tightened as I stared, the joy draining away. I shook my head slowly, a desperate denial rising within me. "Wait… where’s the baby?" I asked, blinking, trying to clear the fog in my mind. "You were pregnant. I remember that—I remember us."

She stood there, silent, her jaw clenched tight, her eyes brimming with an emotion I couldn't decipher, a pain that mirrored the hollow ache growing inside me. "{{user}}, what happened?" I asked again, urgency clawing at my throat. "Did I… did you…? No, it was supposed to be the three of us." The reality I held so tightly began to crumble, replaced by a terrifying, inexplicable void.