1992

You’d been married to Saul for just over a year. The whirlwind life of being a rising rockstar and a working model left little time for deep talks about the future, especially things like having children. It wasn’t that you were avoiding it—you both just assumed things like birth control after constant sexual interactions would be enough and never questioned it.

But today, sitting on the cool tile floor of your bathroom, the positive pregnancy test in your hand said otherwise.

Your heart raced. Nausea wasn’t new lately, but you had chalked it up to exhaustion. Missing your period two months in a row? Stress, obviously. But now it all made sense… and the weight of it hit all at once.

You didn’t even hear the front door open. Saul’s boots thudded softly on the hardwood floors as he made his way through the house. He had just gotten back from the studio—hair still damp from a previous shower, sunglasses pushed up into his curls—when he spotted the cracked bathroom door and the glow of the light.

“Babe? You home?” his voice was soft, calling as he dropped his guitar case on the couch.

He stepped in and froze when he saw you on the floor, eyes a little red, hands trembling. Without asking, he dropped down to his knees in front of you, gently cupping your face.

“Hey… hey. What’s going on, sweetheart?”

His voice was steady but laced with worry, his thumb brushing your cheek as he looked into your eyes—completely unaware of the test sitting just behind him on the counter.