The paper crinkled slightly in her hand, a small tear landing on the pages and making the
cheap black ink run. She ran her fingers over the child's picture... a little boy, his wrinkly
skin shaded pink and his eyes squinted shut. He was so tiny, having been born
prematurely and spending days in and out of the hospital. But he had finally made it
home, and his birth announced all across the east coast: the son of Ethan Crane.

Theresa looked across the hall into the nursery of her own little girl, asleep in her tiny bed,
blonde ringlets framing her face and spreading askew on the pillow. Aside from the
golden hair, she looked like a miniature version of Theresa: same colored skin, same
mouth... well, maybe not her eyes. Her gorgeous eyes, and her hair, had been inherited
from her father, who never even knew this child existed. A father who thought he was
celebrating the birth of his first child... his son.

"Oh, Ethan," Theresa sighed, leaning against the door frame, "If you only knew..."

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Ethan Crane leaned over the bassinet, straining to hear the faint breathing of his son who
slept soundly beneath him. After Ryan's premature birth, Ethan had been on edge, going
out of his mind. He was constantly worried, entering the nursery several times an hour to
check up on the sleeping infant.

"Ethan, you really needn't worry so much," his wife said, entering the room and wrapping
her arms around his back.

"I can't help it, Gwen," he replied, slipping his hand into hers, "I just... I don't know... He
looks so helpless. And so tiny."

"The doctors, who, might I add, are the finest in the country, have assured us that
everything is going to be perfectly fine with Ryan. Yes, he was born early, but he's
getting bigger by the minute, and he eats everything we feed him. Don't worry so
much."

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"I lost the baby," she lied, sitting on the park bench and placing a hand on her
stomach.

"You lost the baby? But... how?" Ethan asked, sitting next to her. She was silent.
"What's wrong, Theresa? What happened? Why didn't you tell me right away?"

"I just couldn't, Ethan. I mean, the doctors said it might have been stress related... or
maybe because I was sick those first few days. But you have to move on, Ethan. You're
still engaged to Gwen. You'll be able to have plenty of children with her."

"What are you saying?"

"What I'm saying is... I'm leaving Harmony," Theresa choked out, not believing she was
actually carrying through with her plan, "I've got to. I can't stay here. Especially not
with you around. Luis is ready to kill you, anyway. For getting me into this situation, first
off... and then you weren't there in the hospital..."

"But I didn't know!"

"That's what I told him, but he's still furious with you," Theresa tried to soothe him, "And
Mama's not happy with me at all right now, Miguel doesn't even have words to say
anything to me... Whitney is in disbelief... And you are being forced to marry Gwen. I
have no one."

"You have me."

"Not for long," Theresa replied, a tear staining her cheek, "Maybe someday I'll come
back, when you've forgotten about me and are happily married to Gwen. Maybe we can
still be friends when that day arrives."

"I love you, Theresa..."

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"Ethan, are you all right?" Gwen interrupted his thoughts, bringing him out of his silent
reverie.

"Oh, Gwen... Yes, I'm fine. I just don't want to lose my child." i "Again,"/i he
added in his thoughts.