Author's Note:

Hello lovelies! This is a repost of a short story I posted on my old account xxmadworldreveriexx.

So before we get into it, a fair warning because this one-shot has plenty of sensitive and possibly triggering themes. Also, I just want to make this clear: I am not a mother. I have never gone through any of the things that the characters (namely, Clary) goes through in this story. So if there are any inaccuracies regarding Clary's condition, please forgive me. I did do my best to research and portray it as realistically as possible.

Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare owns the original TMI series and characters. Any familiar quotes that you recognise from the TMI books should, of course, be attributed to the ingenuity of Cassie. However, the plot lines and other character developments etc. in this story belongs to me, xxmadworldredemptionxx. Please do not copy, reproduce, translate, or repost these stories elsewhere without my permission.

MELANCHOLIA

The first time I realized that something was wrong with me was about nine weeks after Jamie was born. I couldn't quite recall the exact moment that led to that painful realization, but when it finally dawned on me, it broke me in ways I never thought possible.

For weeks, I had deluded myself into thinking that the postnatal blues would eventually go away once I had adjusted to the hectic routine of being a mother. But when those issues continually persisted due to my stubborn ignorance (an irony in this case considering I had transformed into an almost full-fledged emotionless zombie), I was finally forced to take notice that I wasn't quite the same person I thought I was going into my pregnancy.

Clarissa Adele Herondale was just a name, not a person. She was a subpar mom and a failing wife.

No, I had never, not once, neglected my son or harbored ill thoughts, much less expressed violent tendencies towards him. I loved him, just as much as the next mother did her own child. After all, I had carried him in my womb for nine months, and birthed him after 18 long, hard hours of labor. He was my very first baby...or the very first one I'd managed to carry to full term and actually survive.

Before Jamie, I had been pregnant on two other occasions. The first one ended in a miscarriage when I was just barely into my second trimester. And the second was equally heartbreaking, if not more. I had gone into labor with our little girl when I was eight months pregnant, and after an excruciating fight in the delivery room, I gave birth to a stillborn. She was named Annalise Jane Herondale, and was a beautiful girl who weighed just under five pounds, and had my little button nose and her father's soft blond curls.

Till this day, I mourned the loss of our daughter and our eldest child whom we never even had the chance to meet. Had Jace and I been spared our misfortunes, we would have three children in our lives by now. But who was I to question God's plans for me? He had been more than generous to give me another chance, to bless me with a healthy and living son in Jamie, so why was I feeling this way?

Why, after all this time, when my baby had been growing into an exceptionally happy six-month-old was I still struggling with these...unexplained emotions? Why did I constantly grapple with feelings of worthlessness, inadequacy, guilt, shame, and worst of all, emptiness? I certainly had no right to be.

Here I was living the life that any other woman could easily envy, and yet, I was a selfish bitch with an inferiority complex who made herself feel less than she probably was.

I had been happily married to my childhood sweetheart for over ten years. We finally had the beautiful family we had always been dreaming of. Jace was a successful lawyer who was an exceptionally loving husband, and even more amazing father whom our son adored…

So why was it not enough? Why couldn't I be happy? Why was I constantly looking over my own shoulder for something horrible to happen? Why, in spite of Jace's fervent reassurances of his love for me, did I doubt him?

'Postpartum depression' was the term they called my illness. Jace was aware that I had changed, though to what extent was the severity of my situation was purposefully kept secret from him.

Did I feel remorse over withholding information he probably should know about me? Maybe. Was it enough to make me change my mind and disclose my condition to him? No. Absolutely not.

The last thing I wanted to add to my plate, on top of feeling like a worthless waste of space, was to admit that I was actually dependent on Jace. I was 30 years old, and a mother, damn it! I didn't need to rely on my husband to solve my problems for me. I could handle them on my own. They were mine to deal with, not his. Besides, how could he possibly fathom the things I was going through?

The only thing Jace had noticed about me was that I was no longer as socially active as I used to be. Quite the opposite, I had withdrawn into a shell of myself, where my interactions were limited to spending time with my baby and making sure that his needs were met—even then, I lacked the enthusiasm of a first-time mother.

Besides Jamie, no other person mattered to me… Not even Jace.

When the doctor gave me the final all-clear to resume normal activities six weeks after Jamie was born, I hadn't been as relieved as I initially thought I would be. For weeks, Jace had been telling me how much he was looking forward to resuming our marital relations again...unaware of the fact that my desire for anything resembling intimacy had diminished into inexistence.

This probably should have been the first sign to trigger the warning bells in my head, but I was quick to dismiss them. I had been convinced that once Jace and I finally got around to doing what it was that cemented our married life together, we would finally regain that spark that was missing and I would be okay again.

I was dead wrong. As harsh and cold as this might sound, the physical intimacy I usually savored with Jace didn't make me feel anything at all…quite the opposite, actually. For the first time in our relationship, I actually felt...resentful of it. But to protect Jace's feelings, and to make sure that he didn't suspect that anything was off with me, I found myself putting on an act. And when the dust had settled, the shame and guilt I felt was crushing.

I decided that I never wanted to put myself in that kind of vulnerable situation again, not until I managed to fix whatever the hell the problem was with me. So I started to make up excuses every time...though I tried my hardest to not make it sound like I was (obviously) rebuffing his advances.

The excuses became so relentless that eventually, Jace just stopped trying.

We still cuddled, but despite the closeness of our contact, I had never felt more emotionally distanced from Jace. And my guilt worsened.

Most nights when Jace had fallen asleep next to me, I would lie awake, a complete insomniac despite how fatigued my body actually was. I was weary...of myself and the feelings that hovered around me like a constant shadow. I would replay everything I had done during the day in my head, the thoughts coursing through my mind like an unfiltered stream.

Did the breakfast I cooked this morning taste as bland as it did on my tongue? Did Jace suspect anything was wrong with me when he kissed me before leaving for work? Did I smile enough for Jamie today to make him believe that his mother loved him? Am I producing enough breastmilk for my baby boy? Am I feeding him enough? Am I showering him with adequate attention? Did the dinner I cooked taste bland again? Oh no, what if Jace thinks that I'm useless because I wouldn't put out for him again? What if he grows sick of me and looks for a replacement, someone who would fulfil his needs as a man? Would I care?

Then it would boil down to the same conclusion every time:

What good was I as a wife if I couldn't even make my husband happy? He had never even asked me for anything. Other than taking care of Jamie and our house, I never had to work, except to fulfil my dreams to be an artist. And even that was a dull flicker in my life where it once used to be a burning passion.

Who was I?

A complete useless nobody, that was what.

I hate myself.

I am disgusted with myself.

I loathe myself.

"Clary, what's wrong with you?" The question was so simple, so direct, and quite honestly, it was warranted.

Jace had every right to know what was wrong with me. I had kept it buried within myself for nearly six months now, with Jace giving me the personal space I had never outrightly asked from him, and for my lack of integrity, didn't deserve.

But for some reason I couldn't rationalize, his question completely threw me off. I was pissed at his audacity to ask what was wrong with me only after months and months of me struggling with the problem. I was contradicting myself, but damn it, if he had actually cared, why did it take this long for him to actually say something? Why didn't he try to talk to me before my depression worsened?

"Nothing's wrong," I answered with an underlying note of bitterness. "I'm breathing, aren't I?"

Jace looked taken aback by my spiteful words. For a moment he seemed to struggle with what to say to me and that frustrated me. For a man with a natural gift for words, he surely sucked ass when the time actually called for it.

"Baby, what's wrong?" He repeated himself, using less words than before, but essentially asking me the same thing.

I rolled my eyes at him. "I'll tell you what's wrong," I said as I jabbed my finger at him repeatedly in the chest. My mind was dead-set on concluding that the reason why Jace had finally deigned to speak up about my issues was because he had reached the end of his patience with my sudden embrace of celibacy and was desperate to get some. In my warped up mind, he didn't actually care about me. He was just frustrated. Period. But was I willing to cave in to him? Oh, no. "You're acting like an asshole. That's what's wrong with me."

His eyes widened even more at this. "What the hell? What did I even do to you?" he spluttered out.

"Don't act dumb with me."

"I am not acting," he said, angrily this time. "I'm asking because I'm concerned about you. I can't even remember the last time we actually sat down and had a happy and meaningful conversation with each other. Do you?"

I rolled my eyes at him again. I realized that this had become my new habit as of late. Every little thing Jace did annoyed me, but instead of saying it out, I would roll my eyes at him behind his back.

"Hmm, let's see," I said in a sarcastic tone. "We have conversations every day during breakfast and dinner about Jamie's progress. You're telling me that those aren't happy, meaningful conversations?"

"Of course they are!" Jace said defensively. "I was referring to us!" He gestured to the space between us. "When was the last time we had a conversation that wasn't entirely focused on Jamie?"

"Does it matter?"

"Damn it," Jace muttered, his patience obviously thinning. "Why are you being so difficult? Does this—us—even mean anything to you anymore? Do you even care about our marriage?"

"Why? Are you only just now realizing how much you wish you weren't married to me?" I retorted. "Listen to yourself, Jace. If you weren't so frustrated about this dry spell we've been having, you wouldn't even bring this up."

"This has nothing to do with sex," he said through gritted teeth. "And stop putting words into my mouth. I never said I regretted our marriage. I'm asking you if you care."

"Nothing to do with sex," I repeated with a mirthless laugh. "Sure, Jace! Look me in the eye and tell me you have absolute zero desire to take me right now," I challenged him.

He glared at me and shook his head. "It wouldn't matter what I say to you since you're so hell-bent on whatever it is that's floating around inside your head. I don't know what's got you so withdrawn and distant from me lately, but Clary, I've been silent about it for long enough."

His golden eyes softened then, and he reached out to cup my cheeks in between his large callused hands. Before, I usually relished in his touch, but now I only felt suffocated and trapped.

"Talk to me; that's all I'm asking. I love you, sweetheart, and if there's something bothering you, no matter how small you think it is, you can tell me. We can work this through together. I want us to be happy. I want Jamie to grow up in a happy environment...and that takes work from the both of us..."

I knew that Jace was right on all accounts, but that still didn't stop me from jerking away from him. "Nothing's wrong," I repeated, my voice sounding distant to my own ears.

I had turned away from Jace, so my back was facing him. I could feel his eyes boring into my back, which for the first time ever, made me feel like shrinking into myself. I didn't know who I was anymore and it scared me. How long was it going to take before Jace gave up on me and moved on to the next woman? No one would even care if he had a divorced status or had a kid. He looked the part of an eligible bachelor. No woman would be stupid enough to pass him up.

Was it time for me to let him go? What was I doing with him anyway, other than to deprive him of his happiness? And what about Jamie? My sweet boy...my mini-Jace… Did he not deserve a mother who could give him her all? Who wasn't as helpless as I felt all the time?

When the sound of Jace's receding footsteps indicated that he had vacated the room and left me to my own devices, I sank down to my knees and stared at the floor. Then another sound I never expected to hear came: the front door of our house falling shut and the sharp peal of tires as Jace sped away from our home.

Although in my heart I knew it to be temporary since Jace was unlikely to abandon our baby boy, I couldn't help but shudder at the thought that I had done it.

I had pushed Jace away from me…

The emptiness in the pit of my stomach grew. A sob tore from my throat—the first true emotion I had shown in months—and I lost myself on the floor.

One Week Later

Since our fight, Jace and I barely talked. If we did, it would always be about Jamie. Never us. Never about that night I drove him away from home.

Twenty minutes into my breakdown that night, I had been pulled back into sobriety when I heard Jamie's cries. His pitiful wails, undoubtedly triggered by own hysterical ones, had slapped the sense right back into me. I was a mother, and at the moment, the only parent available to tend to my son. I couldn't afford to fall apart, no matter how messed up I felt on the inside. And since I couldn't run away from my problems, I had to settle for burying them instead.

So drying my tears, I'd picked myself off the floor and plastered on a fake smile onto my face. I'd brisk-walked into Jamie's room and cooed at him soothing words as if I weren't even the one responsible for waking him up in the first place.

"Mommy loves you," I had whispered to him. "I know I haven't been perfect for you, but I'm trying my best to be. Please don't hate me. I love you," I'd repeated those words to him like a mantra.

When Jace finally returned home, he'd fallen asleep next to me and Jamie, the latter of whom had been cuddled into my side after a particularly long breastfeeding session. But I was glad. Jamie was the one silver lining amongst the blusterous dark clouds tormenting me. I was grateful that I had him despite my depression.

The next day, I was numb again, which meant that Jace hadn't suspected a single thing about my breakdown.

Fast forward to today, I couldn't decide if this was a bad or good thing. On one hand, he'd probably thought that I was now a lost cause since him leaving did nothing to affect me. On the other hand, it meant that he would leave me alone instead of interrogating me about something I thought was best left ignored—

If I just stopped obsessing over it, maybe it would go away. Maybe I would be able to wake up one day and be myself again. I was living a pipe dream, but I didn't know what else to do.

My doctor had offered me help: therapy and even medication to help me cope with my depression, but I didn't want it. I had told her I would talk to my husband about it and decide on my next course of action from there—which I never did, of course.

How could I possibly bring up my condition when Jamie needed both his parents' attention more? I already felt selfish enough… What kind of a mother would that make me if I were to steal my husband's attention away from our son? The child we had been waiting nearly a decade for to be born?

Sitting across the table from Jace now, I felt a profound ache in my chest for the first time in months. An ache I now recognized to be a desperate longing. I missed Jace, more than anything. I missed us and the ease of our relationship. I hated what I—or rather, my condition—had done to us. We were walking on eggshells around each other, which was something I had never thought would ever become possible.

But did I dare speak up? No. Not at all.

"I hope you don't mind," Jace said as he fed our son a spoonful of banana purée. I looked up at him, hoping in vain to make a connection, but he was studiously avoiding my gaze. Or maybe I was overthinking it. He could just be focusing on our son since he was feeding him, after all.

"My personal assistant, Aline, will be coming over for dinner later. We've been working on a new case lately that's taking up a lot of our time. I might have to pull an all-nighter, so I'd rather do it here where I can squeeze in some time to be with Jamie. I've been away from him too much, as it is. My poor baby."

Jamie let out a high-pitched giggle when his daddy leaned forward and pecked his purée-stained lips. As drained and numb as I usually was, I couldn't help but smile every time I watched the two. Jace had stepped into the role of a doting father easily enough, as if it were second nature to him. And our son loved him for it.

"Oh, and Aline's been begging me for months to come over to see Jamie. I've only ever shown her his pictures on my phone. She's dying to see him since she loves kids," Jace offhandedly added.

I felt the spark of an old, buried emotion at the mention of Jace's PA, but I quickly pushed it away. It was a working relationship, and in no way, personal. If Jace was involved in an affair with Aline, why would he even inform me in the first place? Plus, he would be inviting her to our house, where I could monitor them if I wanted to.

Really? Nothing personal? He sounds awfully familiar when he talks about her…Aline loves kids? If it were a strictly professional relationship, why would it matter if she likes kids? And Jace has been showing her photos of my son? She's not even related to Jamie!

I gritted my teeth as irrational jealousy swelled in me. Friends, I told myself. Colleagues can be friends too. A man and a woman can be in a purely platonic relationship. Just look at me and Simon!

"I don't mind," I told him, though I was tempted to ask why it was even necessary to have his personal assistant work with him on a case full-time. But hey, what did I know about the way the law industry worked? I only ever understood the fine workings of a paintbrush or charcoal against canvas, or the scratch of a pencil against drawing paper.

"Awesome," Jace said as he began to pull silly faces at our baby. Jamie giggled again as his chubby hands reached out to pat his father's face. "We should be here by seven o'clock." He still wasn't looking at me when he said this, but I decided not to dwell too much on it.

Though it unnerved me greatly that when he finally left for work, he completely neglected to give me a goodbye kiss or to tell me he loved me. That hardly ever happened in the last ten years of our marriage.

But I was probably overthinking it. It was possible he'd forgotten. I couldn't trust my volatile thoughts, lest they destroyed me. I had already destroyed myself enough.

Aline was everything I had thought she would be: beautiful and sexy; an almost total opposite of my mediocre self. She was polite too, though I drew the line when she tried to give me a hug and kiss my cheek—we weren't close enough for her to be that familiar with me.

I knew it was irrational of me, but when Jace introduced her to our son, I wanted nothing more than to scoop him out of his arms and keep him away from the other woman's reach. I wasn't trying to be possessive here, but I didn't like that my husband's colleague—who was practically a stranger to me—was showing that kind of affection towards my son.

If our roles were reversed, I knew I would never be as forthcoming as Aline was to kiss (technically speaking here) her boss's son. There were just certain boundaries when it came to things like that. In that instance, could I even consider her to be a respectful guest?

Jace didn't seem to mind at all. He'd smiled at Aline when she'd asked him if she could hold Jamie—without considering how I, the mother of my child, would feel about it. I almost burst into tears when she held my baby in her arms, and Jace bent down to coo at his son. I felt like an invisible outsider looking in at what probably looked like a happy family to anyone who didn't know any better. Aline could easily pass off as Jamie's mother since my little boy was the spitting image of Jace. The only thing he inherited from me were the shape of his nose and mouth—features that might seem insignificant unless people paid really close attention.

Before I knew it, I was the only one standing in the foyer in our house. Jace, Aline and Jamie had all went ahead into the dining room, where I'd already set the table and laid out the dishes for dinner. My heart beat uncontrollably in my chest, and I felt like my abdomen was being squeezed by an unknown force. For the first time in a long time, I felt truly alone.

It didn't help any better when I entered the dining room. Jace and Aline had already tucked into their meals without waiting for me, and were chatting enthusiastically as if they were best friends rather than colleagues. My chest tightened. What if they were more than just colleagues?

The idea wouldn't be far-fetched. Aline was an attractive woman, far more gorgeous than I was, especially considering all the extra baby weight I had put on and never had the time nor motivation to lose. I thought back to the last time Jace and I were together-together…over four, five months ago. I hadn't exactly been paying attention, but God, what did he think when he saw my body then? All that tummy flab and stretch marks…

I subconsciously touched my stomach, wondering if it looked noticeably pudgy in the top I was wearing. Oh, if only I'd cared long enough to actually look myself over in the mirror when I'd gotten dressed earlier…

"Oh Clary, there you are!" Aline exclaimed when she noticed me standing in the doorway staring blankly at them. "We hope you don't mind we started without you. We were both starving!"

"Not at all," I managed to squeak out before I slowly, almost reluctantly, walked into the room. I took a seat next to Jace, and forced a smile onto my lips when Jamie turned to me and gave his famous toothless grin. At least someone bothered to acknowledge me. Jace, on the other hand, hadn't said one word or even looked at me.

Why would he look at me when he has something else—someone more beautiful to look at? I'm just a disgusting piece of fat compared to her.

My eyes prickled with tears, but I forced them back. Usually, during mealtimes, I would alternate between eating and then feeding Jamie, but my little boy was seated nowhere close to me. The seat I usually occupied was claimed by Aline, and even I didn't have the heart to tell her to move.

Logically I knew it was only a temporary arrangement for the night, but I felt like I was being replaced. Worse, I felt like I deserved it. I had been pushing Jace away...so this was my retribution. I hadn't been as good as a mother to Jamie as I had hoped to be, so Aline was playing the eager stand-in.

I did this to myself. I destroyed my own happiness. I didn't deserve to be loved. I didn't deserve to have a family. I didn't deserve anything.

Before I could excuse myself from the table and wallow in self-pity within the confines of my bedroom, a choked sob made its way out of my throat. I clamped my hand over my mouth, hoping that it hadn't been audible enough to attract any attention, but I wasn't so lucky.

Three pairs of eyes were now zoomed in on me, Jamie purely out of innocent curiosity at the embarrassing sound his mother just made, and as for the other two adults...I didn't know. I was far too humiliated to glance at them and see what they thought of me. I had had enough.

I didn't say anything, only got up and ran out of the room, my footsteps sounding like a rhino charging up the staircase. In my frazzled state, I fleetingly heard the distressed cry of my son, but even that did nothing to stop me from fleeing the scene. Jamie had his father. Jace could deal with him. Aline could help. They didn't need me. They could handle it.

I locked the door behind me as I fell into the room, and then the wails came, louder and more potent than the first time I had a breakdown. I couldn't see the silver lining anymore. Everything around me was shrouded in darkness. I didn't know if there was anything left for me to fight for. All I saw was my own pain and grief. The numbness was just a prelude to the real emotion lurking beneath the surface. And now that it had finally broken through, I realized that I had deluded myself all along.

I wasn't strong enough to deal with it.

But I was…ready for it to be over.

I composed myself long enough to hear the pounding fists belonging to Jace coming from the other side of the door. He was shouting and pleading for me to let him in, but I blocked him out.

It was too late. I was resolved in my decision.

Or was I?

No, there could be no other choice! I had to stop lying to myself. The harsh reality of it was, I wasn't strong enough to face it anymore. But if I wanted to release myself from this torment, I had to be quick...before Jace broke down the door.

I ran into the ensuite bathroom and yanked open the medicine cabinet. My hands were shaking furiously as I pulled out the bottle of sleeping pills, my last resort to achieving perpetual 'relief'.

As I poured its contents into my palm, I brought my hand up to my mouth—and stopped.

I thought of Jace…

He could easily move on and find love again.

I thought of Jamie…

He was too young to even remember me.

Whomever Jace decided to love again, she could be his new mother—a better mother for him than I ever was in the short time I'd cared for him. I only hoped they would forgive me for what I was going to do.

Releasing an anguished sigh, I raised my clenched fist to my mouth, tilted my head back, and prepared to swallow.

But before I could follow through, Jace had tackled me into his arms and knocked the damned pills onto the floor. I struggled against him and screamed at him to let me go, but despite everything he held onto me tight. Despite my hysterical yells that it was "too late", he refused to let me go.

"Let go! Let go of me! It's too late! Let go!" I shrieked as my elbow dove repeatedly into his rock-hard stomach.

"Stop it. Stop, Clary. Please stop it," Jace tightened his grip around me as he whispered his pleas into my ear. "God, baby, stop it. You're scaring Jamie. You're scaring me. I don't want to lose you. Stop fighting me. Let me help you. Don't leave us, Clary—please."

The cry that pierced my lips once more sounded more like it came from a feral animal rather than a woman who was in pain. I didn't know what it was Jace said that finally made me surrender; I fell limp against his body as more sobs shook through my frame. Still, he refused to relinquish his grip on me. He kept me pressed against him as he shushed me repeatedly.

"It's okay. I'm here now. I'm sorry. I love you. Jamie loves you. Don't leave us," he murmured as we sank down onto the bathroom floor and he cradled me against his chest. "I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry."

I buried my face into his neck as the tears kept streaming down my cheeks. I hated myself...but now for a different reason entirely. I couldn't believe that I had been selfish enough to attempt suicide! The woman I was before would have never even considered it. The woman I was before would have been repulsed by the decision I'd damn-nearly made to condemn myself.

God, what's wrong with me?

"My heart hurts," I sniffled into his neck. "Everything hurts. I don't know who I am anymore. I don't know if I can get better for you. I'm lost and I'm scared..."

Jace coaxed my head out of his neck so he could meet my eyes. I didn't want to—I was so ashamed of myself—but he was persistent. "Look at me, Clarissa," he gently ordered me.

I had no choice but to listen. Though I was shocked when I finally did see his face. Jace never cried—but there was no denying that he was crying now. Because of me.

It shocked me to see so much hurt on his face, the hurt I knew I put there. His whole face was bloody red as tears shamelessly streamed down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I should have been more attentive. I should have never kept quiet when I thought something was wrong. I should have been there for you instead of leaving you to deal with it on your own. I'm such a shitty husband. No wonder you wanted to leave me," he shook his head at himself. "I don't deserve your forgiveness, but please forgive me. Don't give up, Clary. Please."

"What if I never get better?" I asked him in a hoarse voice. "I hate feeling like this so much. I want it to stop. I want to be happy again but I can't seem to fight my way out of this misery. And it sucks because I don't even know why I feel miserable in the first place. I have no reason to."

"You shouldn't feel guilty for the way you're feeling, Clary," he gulped, looking ashamed of himself. "Especially since I'm partly to blame for what happened earlier. I shouldn't have brought Aline over. Yeah, we do have a case that we needed to work on but it isn't important enough for me to bring her to our home.

"To be honest, I was still sore about our fight last week. I was angry with you because I thought you didn't care about us anymore, even if I were to leave. I… I did what I did tonight because I wanted you to react." He tightened his grip on my waist. "Guess we all saw how badly my plans backfired. I didn't mean to push it so far, much less make you wish that you were…no longer with us," his voice cracked as his mind undoubtedly replayed my stunt with the sleeping pills. "That was never my intention and I'm sorry I behaved so childishly instead of talking to you like I should have."

"Well, you did try to talk to me," I said, referring to our fight. I was still a disgusting mess of tears, fears, and insecurities, but somewhere in the middle of Jace's explanation, I'd managed to calm myself down. I no longer felt the urge to harm myself. Strangely, in fact, I felt more like the old me who abhorred what I'd nearly done. "But I was so far up my own head to be reasoned with…" I shook my head. "You're wrong, by the way. The night you left, I wasn't an emotionless piece of stone as you thought I was. On the contrary, that night was the first time I broke down," I confessed. "After you drove off, I started crying…much like I did earlier that I scared Jamie awake. He was the reason I didn't do anything stupid after you left…"

The look of pain and remorse in Jace's eyes intensified. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice sounding small.

"You couldn't have known. It's…okay," I answered robotically, almost out of an unconscious habit.

"Okay?" One could definitely tell that my husband was far from pleased with my answer, but I didn't know what else to say.

Thankfully or not, Aline interrupted us with a red-faced crying baby in her arms. There was no other word to describe the look on her face other than abject horror. She might not have seen what I had tried to do myself, but I could bet every dime I had that she'd heard the commotion and put two and two together. Wonderful. Now Jace's colleague thought I was crazy. What if she called the authorities and convinced them I was a threat to myself...and to society?

"Umm, Jace?" Aline's voice sounded squeaky and nervous as she pointedly made the effort not to look at me. "If it's alright with you, I think I should go. And your baby…"

Jace cast me a meaningful look in the eye, one that told me to not try anything stupid while he retrieved our baby from his PA. I gave him a barely there nod, and he slowly got up to take Jamie in his arms. Our little boy calmed down a little, but continued to cry his little lungs out. Poor baby. I couldn't believe that I'd scared him again with my outburst.

"Thank you, Aline," Jace said, his tone almost dismissive.

The girl nodded. "I'll just...show myself the way out then. Thank you...for the dinner. And," she glanced warily at me as if I would pounce on her any minute—I probably would if she were still holding on to my child. "I hope you feel better, Clary."

"Thanks," I muttered, willing for her to just leave and take the awkward tension with her. I was so tired that I didn't care if I offended her. I didn't owe her an explanation as to why I behaved the way I did, even if she bore no ill intentions against me. None of my issues concerned her. "Goodbye, Aline."

When the other girl finally left, I walked over to Jace and held my arms out to take Jamie from him. He hesitated for a moment before he gave in, and I heaved a sigh of relief once I felt my baby in my arms again. I rubbed his back and buried my face into his cheek, inhaling him, and within a short few minutes, his cries began to subside.

Jamie whined and nudged his face against my chest, letting me know that he wanted to be fed. I walked over to our bed and sat down, exposing myself just enough to allow him to latch onto my nipple. He suckled greedily, and I stroked his cherub-like cheek as I nursed him.

"Mommy's sorry again, baby," I told him. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Jace sat down on the bed, leaving a little space between us as he watched our son eat. I gave him a small smile when I caught his eye, and he returned it with a hesitant smile of his own.

"You can talk to me, Jace," I told him softly as I eyed my nursing baby. His chubby hands were softly kneading the flesh of my breast as he fed, and his eyes were droopy with sleepiness. I kissed his head of fine blond hair and began to gently rock him, helping him to sleep.

After a long silent pause, Jace finally spoke. "Please don't misunderstand me, but have you talked to someone about what this is? Someone who could help?"

I nodded embarrassedly. "I know the gist of it from what the doctor told me," I whispered. "She said I've postpartum depression. She recommended me to go for therapy to help me cope with these feelings but I didn't… I wanted to believe that the doctor must have somehow misdiagnosed me. I told her I would speak to you when the problem became too real for me to deny it any longer, but I was scared of how you would react. I've already been enough of a disappointment for you."

"What?" Jace looked genuinely shocked by this.

"I lost two of our babies before we had Jamie," I clarified with a slight hitch in my tone. "If I had been more careful with them, we would have had three kids by now instead of one."

"Babe, I've never once blamed you for what happened… Yes, I was devastated when we lost them, but I've never pinned the blame on you. Heck, I felt horrible because as much as they were my kids, you were the one that had to endure the physical pain of losing them while I watched uselessly on the sidelines…"

I closed my eyes as the sting of tears returned. "I…" I swallowed the lump in my throat. "About my depression," I said, desperate to steer the conversation away from our past losses, "One of the reasons I never brought it up was because I thought that if I ignored the problem, it would hopefully go away. And with Jamie in the picture, I just didn't want to make my condition a bigger focus than our son. And...admittedly, the part of me that wasn't emotionally paralyzed was afraid that if I was somehow declared mentally unstable, you would take Jamie away from me." I sniffled again. "I don't think I would be able to handle that. I know I haven't been a perfect mother to him, but I have tried. The urge to hurt him, even on days where I experienced my deepest lows, have never once crossed my mind. I love him, Jace."

"I believe you," he said earnestly. "And he loves you, too, you know? You may not see it, but every time he sees his mommy walking into the room, his entire face just lights up. He may not be old enough to say it, but he loves you… Don't ever doubt how good of a mother you are, because you're the most amazing mother I've ever seen. I've never once heard you complain about having to wake up in the middle of the night to feed our son or just to comfort him when he cries… That proves a lot of how much you care for him."

"I'm still far from the person I used to be though," I muttered. "What if I can't control my mood swings one day and I accidentally hurt Jamie?"

"I trust that you won't." Jace took my hand in his own. "We'll even go to this therapy thing…together. I could always take time off from work. After all the sacrifices you've made for our son, and even for the children that we've lost, the least I could do is to give you my support. I want you to get better. I want you to know that I'm here for you. I'll do whatever it takes to help you find you again. I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy, Clary," he said, and God, did I believe him. There were no lies or half-assed promises to his words… And we wouldn't just be doing this to mend us, but for the sake of our family's future.

The road to recovery wouldn't be easy, but I had faith this time. If I got through this giant hurdle with Jace by my side, we would hopefully be able to emerge stronger on the other side.

A/N: Out of the couple of one-shots I have written and posted on FF, this one definitely ranks as one of my personal favorites because of the emotions that I poured into writing it. Plus, I think there's some good takeaways we can learn from this: the importance of communication when in a relationship, for example. Although Clary had her reasons for keeping her condition to herself, she could have saved herself a lot of trouble if she had just confided in Jace. Likewise, Jace could have tried harder to find out what was wrong with her without going about it the confrontational way, as he had during their fight in the earlier scene. A little sensitivity and thought can go a long way...as can the self-admittance towards needing help. As Jace and Clary show, it takes two, or perhaps even more, to combat certain hurdles in life.

A final note to my readers: The phrase "Never give up" may seem overused and cliched, but it is an important principle to keep when faced with challenges and moments of vulnerability. Resilience is the true mark of bravery and strength, so when you find yourself wavering with self-doubt and helplessness, surround yourself with the people who fill you with positivity and a zest for life!

Thanks for reading. If you could spare me a few minutes of your time, do let me know your thoughts on this one-shot! :)

Peace xoxo