She felt a void, a loss so deep that not even Maxwell couldn't be there for her. She pushed him away, though God knew he kept on trying to get close to her. She was his wife now, and he couldn't just pretend that things were okay when obviously they weren't.
She blamed him. They had lost a child, and instead of being happy for her when she announced the pregnancy, he'd gotten angry with Fran and said some things that he now truly wished he could take back. If only he had a time machine, or even better, if he hadn't been such a bloody fool then none of this would have happened.
It had been two weeks since Fran last appeared from her room. He remembered it all too well. It was the day of the doctor's appointment, the one he wouldn't go to out of stubbornness. The timing wasn't right for a child, he'd said, and besides, there would be other appointments. How wrong he was.
He would never forget the call he'd gotten, saying he'd better get to the hospital as quickly as possible. Fran was not in any danger, but they'd better let her explain to him herself. So he left the children with Niles and when he found her, oh how she had cried. Never before had Maxwell seen the upbeat nanny like this. She'd lost hope, and she'd lost the baby. The baby that he never wanted. He hated himself for many things at that point, but for not being there for her at the doctor's appointment when she got the news that the pregnancy wasn't viable was unforgivable.
And it certainly seemed like that to Fran as well. She had now taken to staying in the guest room, only leaving her newfound haven for showers and little bites of food. Nothing that had given her pleasure before seemed to matter. All that Fran knew was that she was supposed to have been a mother, and that was robbed of her.
In his heart he knew that this was just a cruel act of nature, but Maxwell certainly hadn't helped the situation. How could he make this up to his dear wife? There must be a way, but what?