Thank you so much for all your lovely messages and encouragement with this! I'm so sorry it's taken so long to update...and that this chapter is so short, but I wanted to get back on the saddle!
Despite the numerous times Sheldon had replayed Amy's last hours, it seemed that his eidetic memory had skipped a rather large detail. Amy was not the only thing Sheldon had lost that fateful afternoon. Never would he feel the weight of his child cradled in his arms or watch them take their first steps, hear them laugh at his bad jokes or correct their grammar.
Fuelled by a sudden fire coursing through his veins, he made his way around the kitchen island. There, he shredded the cardboard packaging until it resembled confetti, and threw it, along with its contents, into the bin where it settled among discarded chicken bones, wilted lettuce leaves and empty takeout containers. Deathly silence then followed Sheldon as he retreated to his room.
Watching stove-side, Mary's eyes fixed on the exposed sleeve of the spoiled garment in the container a few metres away, and she fished it from the putrid heap. Maternal intuition conveyed what her son couldn't and compelled her to pursue. She found him curled up on the bed, his long legs nearly puncturing his ribcage, and breathing heavily./
"This ain't for Halley or Michael, is it?
"Look at the size of it, mom. How would this fit either of them?"
"So, who is it for?"
"Does it matter?"
"Well, it clearly does to you. Baby, talk to me."
Breath caught in the back of Sheldon's throat, and he closed his eyes. It was a moment before he could answer.
"This was meant for your next grandchild, mom. When she died, Amy was carrying."
"Oh baby, I'm so sorry."
After that, no one could elicit anything further from Sheldon. Each offer from Leonard, Howard and Raj to play games fell on deaf ears. He remained curled up on his bed, ensconced in his own bubble.
Poor Sheldon - I promise things won't always be this gloomy for him!