'It's not your fault,' Lysander kept repeating to her, but she wouldn't listen. He hugged her and kissed her on the temple in the dreamy way he always did, wiping away the salty tears still rolling down her face. She had been inconsolable since they returned from the hospital, laying in bed for two days, her now-dirty orange hair spilling all over the pillow. 'We'll try again,' he murmured, embracing her with his warm, comforting arms. 'If my mother taught me anything, it's to move along and never to give up and to always believe.'
'Believe in what?' Molly said, her throat dry and rough and her eyes bloodshot. The green in them always stood out stunningly when she was crying. But Lysander didn't answer, only squeezed her tighter so she could forget the pain of losing something she had already loved so much.