3. Define Love:
- [ ] The way the sun hits her hair at six in the morning.
- [ ] Beauty.
- [ ] The moment of silence after your heart shatters.
- [X] All of the above.
"Clary, please. Say something." She stopped, not moving. The gentle wind blew her hair back, the sun hitting it and turning it a fierce, fiery color. An ambulance whirred in the distance. Dry leaves skittered across the ground. Her hands shook, and she clenched them in a visible effort to still them. It had been three days. Three days since they had rushed to the hospital at four in the morning. Three days as the doctor, after a million tests, and many painful hours, told them that their baby was dead. Three days since the miscarriage, and Clary had yet to crack. She had been a numb figure, a ghost of herself. Dark shadows had blossomed under her beautiful eyes, as each night with no sleep added up. He ached to see a smile light up her face again, making her eyes sparkle like they always did. But he knew there would be none of those smiles right now. Still, he ached to ease away the barrier she had built around herself, and find his Clary again. His beautiful Clary, so full of passion and so many emotions. Hesitantly, he reached forward to grip her shoulder. Her body began to shake, and he knew it wasn't because of the chilly air that surrounded them. "It's all my fault." She said through her shaking voice.
"Angel, no." He assured, desperate to relieve her of even the thought of that burden.
She spun on him, tears streaking across her red cheeks, whipped raw by the chilly winds. "Yes!" She smacked her hands against his chest, trying to shove him back. She continued to beat at him with her fists with every word. "I could have stopped this, I was their mother, I was supposed to protect them..." Her fists stilled against him, and she shook from the force of the sobs shoving their way through her anger and pain. "It's my fault." She whispered. She fell into his chest, and he held her as she shook, his heart shattering for her. He ran his hand through her hair in soothing motions, shaking his head fiercely. She sank down to the ground and he followed, gripping her as though he was the only thing that could keep her from breaking apart in front of his eyes as she currently was. The metal of the car was cold as they leaned against it. He held back the swell of tears in the back of his own throat. His own brand of pain and torture raged inside of him, but he knew that he had to be strong for the both of them.
"It's no one's fault." He said, thickly. He held his wife as she cried, and in that cold autumn air, in each other's arms, they mourned what could have been.