Hi! An update for you folks. Enjoy and dont kill me.
Unbeta-ed forever. I didnt check anything in my eagerness to update which is not an excuse I know. If you just want to point it out in the comments, dont. Thanks.
Chapter Nineteen
He sat on the uncomfortable plastic chair with his head resting on the palm of his hands. He had been there, he'd lanced at his watch, he'd realized that it'd barely been two hours and it had only felt like eternity, the minutes having seemed to stretch into long, long hours.
He was scared.
Hell, he was terrified. He was more than just a little bit worried about Cora and the baby.
He'd had this eerie feeling all day, had been tempted more than once to call Cora and check in with her. He'd had to pace himself and remind himself that she was capable of taking care of herself, and that she would not really appreciate her hounding her—because she had always been crystal clear on the matter. He'd consoled himself with the thought that Rosamund would be with her, and she could check in with Cora and let him know.
He had not been pacified, so sure as he was that Cora was not alright. His heart had been constantly at the pit of his stomach, the worry almost tangible. He hadn't been wrong—and now, hours later he was sat in the waiting area, hoping for the news to be something good.
He startled when he felt a hand on his back, and he looked up to find his sister looking grimly at him, though she said nothing, only offered him a cup of some bland, watered down coffee. He took it though, even though he wouldn't really drink it, because he didn't know what else to do, or how to divert his attention from what seemed to be the looming doom. He needed something to take his mind from what was happening.
"Robert," Ros murmured as she took the seat beside him. She was shaken, that much Robert could tell. After all, she had been the one to find Cora after she had been uncharacteristically later to their meeting. When Cora hadn't picked up, Ros had frantically driven to the house in Holland Park, and upon reaching the house and finding no Cora inside, and the rest of their staff not having a clue where Cora was, she'd immediately driven to the one in Chiswick, almost breaking a dozen rules on the way.
Rosamund had found his fiancé lying crumpled on the floor, unconscious and bleeding. She'd called the paramedics in near hysterics before phoning him as well and asking him to meet them in the hospital. He'd driven himself to the hospital she'd told him to, breaking a couple of traffic rules himself, and he had almost collapsed in panic and worry.
The hours had ticked by since then.
Robert let out a sigh as Rosamund rubbed a hand up and down his back in a soothing manner, neither one of them spoke a word. At this point, it seemed necessary. There really wasn't anything to say anymore—none that would make this better or easier. It was painful as it was, nerve racking, and the uncertainty was enough to fill the gaps the silence left in its wake.
Robert, though, at the back of his mind, still worried about her sister. He knew her history with miscarriage, having discussed it with Cora and Rosamund herself—though not in great detail. He looked to the side and stared at his sister, trying to gauge what she was feeling. He wasn't all that great at trying to read people, but he could hazard a guess that Rosamund was not feeling all that great.
He reached out and placed a hand on hers, making her look up at him.
"You alright?" he asked, searching her eyes. He could see the grief and the worry in her blue eyes, and knew that this was difficult for her too.
"Me?" she asked as though surprised. "I'm fine, Robert. Are you okay?"
He started to nod, then changed his mind, shaking his head. Why should he to lie to his sister about it? He was not okay, and he would not be until he was sure that Cora and the baby were out of the woods. Rosamund rubbed his back soothingly, once more as they sink into silence.
It was a few more minutes later that Dr. Tapsell came out of the emergency room, a severe look etched upon his face. Robert felt his heart sink and swallowed heavily, knowing whatever it was—it cannot be good.
"Dr. Tapsell." Robert greeted as got up to talk to the doctor. He offered a hand and the older man shook it.
"I am so sorry to see you under such dire circumstance, Mr. Crawley," the doctor said, sighing. Robert could only nod. "Ms. Levinson is already stable, her blood pressure spiked up and we had to stabilize her." The doctor paused for a second, adding: "Or we would have lost her and the baby," as an afterthought. Robert's breath hitched as the doctor continued, "As I said, Miss Levinson is stable, she's resting and still under, but she will be now moved to another room." He looked at them with an almost smile. "The nurse will let you know which room when they finish moving her."
"And the baby?" Robert asked apprehensively.
Dr. Tapsell shook his head and the corners of his mouth dropped into a frown. "I'm so sorry Mr. Crawley, the same cannot be said for the child," he said sincerely and solemnly, though his words were harsh and it made Robert feel like his world was crumbling right underneath his feet. Rosamund's sharp gasp was audibly and Robert felt her hold on to him. "It was a boy," Dr. Tapsell added, and then… "We would need to perform a D&C, dilation and curettage, that is we will be removing the tissue from the uterus, or what is left. Once Miss Levinson is awake, you can discuss it with her." He cleared his throat. "I highly recommend it, though it doesn't seem necessary at this point, the body has purged the fetus, and Miss Levinson isn't so far along that it would have to be mandatory. It is, however, a procedure that we could do just to be on the safer side, to avoid her being infected and the like, and as I said I highly recommend it."
The words the doctor was saying didn't really register to Robert. He felt dizzy, felt like his head was underwater, and the doctor's voice was so distant. He felt Rosamund's hand squeeze his but he felt distant, detached from his own body.
It was a boy.
Their child was a boy, but now it was gone and Robert had this overwhelming urge to cry and punch things. He could feel Rosamund's hand on his arm, pulling him gently to the chairs, but even that could not anchor him from the waves and waves of despair he was feeling. And so he stood there in the middle of the waiting area, feeling as though his heart would never mend again.
…
Cora felt pain…so much pain, everywhere, especially down on her abdominal area. She groaned, honestly feeling like she might have been hit by a semi. She felt a hand grab hers and she whimpered when she tried to move, trying to get herself awake enough to know who's touching her.
She could hear voices, could hear her name being called through the haze that has settled in her brain, making everything seem foggy and it only served to heighten the pain radiating over her whole body.
"Cora, love," she heard someone say…Robert, it was Robert. "Hey, darling, come on, open those lovely eyes for me baby." His voice was smooth and gentle as he coaxed her back to the world of the living.
It was painful, having to open her eyes, and she'd had to fight the searing pain she felt at the back of her head as her eyelids fluttered. Her vision was blurred and there were two Roberts standing in front of her, and she blinked—once, twice—before it finally straightened enough for her to see her fiancé looking worried. His forehead had deep creases and the light that shone in his eyes showed the overflowing emotions in them. He looked tired, and honestly so distressed, his eyes red-rimmed as though he hadn't slept and had spent the last few hours crying.
"Ro—," she croaked, pausing when she realized her throat hurt. She didn't know how long she'd been out, but her throat and mouth were dry as a desert and she turned her head to the side, spotting a glass of water on the side table and gesturing to it. Robert seemed to take the hint as he grabbed it, holding it against her lips, steadying the straw so she can sip easier. She took a few sips before she felt her throat ease up, and she turned her head away again.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, looking at her with sad eyes.
There was something amiss. She knew she was in the hospital, the lights and the all white walls were a dead indication, but she didn't know why. And Robert looked so sad….then she remembered.
"The baby?" she asked, alarmed. Her heart was pounding. She knew what was coming. She knew it without having to hear it from him because she felt it, she felt the emptiness inside her, the hollowness—it was resonating within every inch of her body. She felt the tears prickling against her eyelids, and she closed her eyes, turning her head so Robert wouldn't see them fall.
But Robert wiped them away before they could even land against the pillow. His finger brushed against her cheeks, and her eyes opened. With her vision glassy and blurred, she looked up at him.
"I'm sorry Cora," he'd said with tears of his own and she understood the look in his eyes, can feel the pain radiate from him. His hand found hers underneath all the covers and he held on tight, squeezing once, twice, as he seemed to hold back the tears. "Oh my love, I'm so sorry."
She could not express in words what she was feeling—the pain, the regret, the anger they all bubbled on the surface, one seemed to be just as intense as the other. The tears came, they came and came, and she was powerless to stop it. No words came though, there were none to say at the moment—the pain was too intense for words.
Yet she'd found some of them:
"Thank God for you, anyway," she whispered, and at that moment, she meant it more than anything.
…
Cora was sleeping, and he had been instructed by his sister and Cora herself, to go home and get some rest. Rosamund was going to stay in the hospital with her while he went and freshened up and got some sleep. He didn't feel like going home, if he was honest, but Cora had pleaded with him, arguing that she wasn't likely to need anything while sleeping and that Rosamund would be there anyway, and he had given in solely because she still had the energy to argue with him to look after himself, when she seemed like she was all out of fight.
He didn't want to stress him out further than she already was. She was already going through so much, he didn't want to add to that.
So he'd acquiesced. He'd gotten out of the hospital with a promise to come the following morning all freshened up and rested. He was going to bring an overnight bag, too, since the doctor advised that Cora be kept for another 48 hours to make sure she was alright.
They'd broached the topic of her D&C, as painful as it had been to bring it up just after Cora had calmed down from crying. He hadn't intended for her to find out that way, though he knew he hardly could have kept it from her, but he didn't have to tell her for her to know. She'd felt it, had known instantly that something was wrong, and the tears had come. He'd held her, had let her cry and cry until she was out of tears and they'd sat there in silence, absorbing the harsh reality that their baby was no longer there.
He'd wanted to comfort her, then, wanted to tell her everything was going to be alright, be he hardly could assure her of that, and any word he might say seemed dry and paltry given the situation. They were young and in love, and sure, they had all the time in the world to have another one, but that didn't seem appropriate. They both loved their baby, their little jelly bean, and he didn't think it comforting to be promising another baby when the one they'd loved and wanted was so recently gone. It didn't seem promising in the slightest, and he knew Cora would hardly find comfort in those words.
So he'd kept his mouth shut and held her, kissed away her tears, and rocked her back and forth until she was tired enough to go back to sleep. When she'd woken up again a little while later, it was to his and Rosamund's argument that he should go home while Cora was asleep. He'd been caught off guard when she'd piped up and asked him to grab the time to rest.
A little while later and here he was, staving off the cold night air as he walked his way to his car.
"Robert?"
He turned around when he heard his name being called, and his heart dropped to his stomach when he saw who it was.
"What do you want?" he asked harshly.
"Well, is that way to greet an old friend?" the person asked instead.
"I'm in no mood for your games, Adeline," he'd snapped, turning around again as she gained in on him, coming closer with that stupid smile on her face. He wanted to hit her but he didn't really subscribe to violence or hitting women—even if that woman was the Devil's mistress herself. He felt her grab his arm, and he turned to yank it free. "Don't you fucking touch me."
She shrank back and for a split second he felt bad, until he remembered the kind of asshole he's dealing with and then he'd been able to justify with himself why and how he could react that way about her. He'd been honest with Cora before when he'd said he was over Adeline, and really, he was glad to put that past behind, so he wished she would just stop doing this.
"I'm sorry," she'd said, though, almost surprising him. That's a first. "Look, you just look so downright miserable. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."
He scoffed. That's another first. She'd never thought of anyone else but herself. That was her M.O. "What are you doing here?"
She shook her head. "Darren is getting his appendix removed, some minor procedure and he'll be alright in the morning," she had said and his mind flashed to when she cheated on him with the bloke and for a moment he wished everything that could go wrong would go wrong—but he caught himself. He wasn't really all that bitter anymore, and maybe he hated Adeline, but that was just because Adeline was an asshole and the devil personified—her cheating besides. "But his mother continues to fuss about him as though he's going to get a heart transplant, so I had to get out of there."
He'd nodded. He remember Darren Philipp's mother, Susan, and he could imagine the kind of scenario playing out. He could also imagine the kind of hell that was for Adeline who was allergic to the full spectrum of human emotion except for greed and rage—if those counted.
He nodded and waved a hand. "You have your cross to bear and I have mine," he said blandly. "And this is where our paths cross and end. Goodbye, Adeline. Hope to never see you again." And then he began walking again, away from her and all the toxic waste she seemed to bring along with her.
"Robert wait," he heard her say and he groaned loudly as her footsteps soon followed.
When was she going to learn to quit?
"What now, Adeline?" he asked, letting every disdain he felt for this woman pour out of his mouth.
"Look, I know we didn't end in good terms…" she began.
"I highly doubt anyone would end in good terms when the other is banging someone else while they were still together, don't you think?" he piped in, unable to resist.
She sighed and rolled her eyes, "Really Robert," she muttered, and he held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, although it was the truth. "But as I was saying, I know we didn't end in good terms, but you and I were friends before our relationship blew up in our faces…" she reached out to touch his arm lightly. "So if you need someone to even just listen to you…then I'm here."
He nearly fell to the ground, floored by the sheer audacity of this woman to be here in front of him and act like she actually cared. He was hardly fooled. He shrugged her off and sighed.
"Thanks for the offer, but no thanks," he said, ignoring the crestfallen look in her face. She was a really great actress when she wanted to be. "Now I have to get going. Have a nice life, Adeline."
Then he walked away for good this time, wondering if it was the last time he'll hear from her, knowing it probably was not.
. . .
It takes two more days before Cora was allowed to be released. She'd forgone the D&C despite Dr. Tapsell's advice. It felt like rubbing salts in her wounds, knowing her child was out and then she'd have to undergo that process when she'd been assured thoroughly, that her child was out of her body, purged like some bad cell or whatever. Robert had initially argued that it was what was best, after all Dr. Tapsell recommended it, but she'd shut him up when she'd snapped that neither he nor that damned doctor knew what she was going through for it was her body and she was still the one who got to decide. He'd acquiesced without further arguments or words at all, but she'd seen the guilt in his eyes. She felt for him, she really did, but honestly, she was still far too hurt to think about any of it.
Logically, she knew it wasn't his fault, or Dr. Tapsell's for that matter, but right now she needed to feel something, anything at all, so she decided on anger. After all, she's not in short supply after the feeling of hollowness settled deep in her chest.
She'd had a barrage of guests, everyone from her best friend to her future in laws had come by to check on her, to say sorry, and she'd noticed all the sad, pitying looks in their eyes and she wanted to let them all know that they should all stop. She didn't need their pity, she needed them to leave her the fuck alone and let her wrap herself in her misery.
She had loved her child, all that short time their little jelly bean had been inside her, she'd loved it—him—and though the child had never been planned, it had not been unwelcomed, and so now…right here, losing it without having much choice, she felt so destroyed, she felt so much despair, had never felt this depressed before, but numbness wrapped it all up in a neat bow.
Why?
Why had it happened?
Why had it happened to her?
She loved her baby. There were so many people, so many parents who did not deserve to be parents, but she and Robert would have loved their child, they would have tried their best to give their child everything. They would have been great parents. So why?
She was young, she knew, and they had time. She knew what she had with Robert was made of the forever-type, and eventually they'd have more kids down the line because it takes them nothing to get pregnant, but she wanted this baby, loved this baby with all her heart.
She wanted to cry over the thought of her precious little boy, but she did not really have any more tears to cry. She felt emptiness in the cavity where her heart should be. She felt hollow and not even Robert could pull her out of despair.
As it were, he couldn't even pull her into a conversation and he had been trying for the past hour that they had been driving home. It was just her luck that there was an accident that caused a traffic jam and they'd been stuck sitting in heavy traffic for the past forty-five minutes when it could have been a half hour drive home. It's made more unbearable by the Robert's various attempts to get her to talk. It was the last thing she needed—to talk. She didn't want to talk about her feelings, didn't want to know how hard this was for him either because she didn't think she could bear the pain he, too, was feeling. It was selfish of her, she knew. They were a team, and they could get through this better together, but right now, she didn't want to open herself up and talk about it. She didn't want to talk at all.
She kept her gaze on the road outside her window as they passed by. The sun was just dipping by the horizon. It had taken a bit more time than she'd wanted to be discharged, since Dr. Tapsell had tried to convince her one last time of the pros of getting a D&C. She'd been very close to socking him in the jaw, when Robert had cut in and had talked to the doctor in private. She didn't know what he'd said, or what they'd talked about, and she had not been very interested to know. If Robert had gotten Dr. Tapsell off her back for good, that was good enough for her.
"Would you like to get some dinner first?" she heard Robert ask her, and she turned to look at him. She saw the concern in his eyes, saw the way he looked at her with affection, and she wanted to reach out to him, cup his cheek in the palm of her hand and tell him it's alright, she's alright, everything was alright. But that would have been a lie, because right now nothing was alright.
She shook her head and looked away. She didn't see him but she knew he shook his head, knew it from the way he sighed like he was torn between letting her be or hauling her off her ass to get some food in her. She'd refused lunch, and had in fact refused any food delivered to her that they'd had to put IV drips on her because she'd be dehydrated if they didn't.
She didn't care.
"Cora, love," he began, and she turned to look at him again, challenging him to continue, but he didn't. He only sighed and with a hard set jaw, looked forward and drove home.
There was a twinge of guilt in her heart, but she ignored that in favor of the anger she felt. Anger was easy, anger made her felt justified, so anger it was.
. .
They had a funeral for the baby.
It didn't make sense. There wasn't much of the baby to even be called a baby, but it gave her peace, gave Robert the closure she thought they'd never really have, because how did anyone move on from this?
But she supposed that it helped…helped what, she didn't know. Maybe, help cement the fact that her baby had been taken away from her unjustly but whatever forces out there out to get her.
The day had been dreary and rainy, the clouds gloomy and grey. It was fitting, perhaps, for it was a very sad day.
She'd worn black, standard, and so did everyone who attended. They had buried nothing but a casket, but it didn't hurt any less when they'd lowered the coffin on the ground. She hadn't been able to stop herself, hadn't been able to hold herself up from the weight of the pain, and she'd fallen on her knees, not caring about the mud or the rain, and she'd clutched her hand against her chest, wanting nothing more than to throw her body over the coffin and weep. Robert held her by the waist, sinking onto his knees beside her, crying softly beside her.
"My baby," she whispered, not having enough strength anymore. "My baby and my beauty. You are my baby and beauty, and I will carry you in my heart forever."
She hadn't been sure what had happened next, feeling as though the world was spinning and spiraling out of her control. She barely remembered being lifted up on her feet once more and even leaving the cemetery.
She wasn't sure, really, what happened next.
But she was sure everything was about to change.
. . .
Everything was changing.
Cora was the love of his life, that he was sure of and that hadn't changed, but everything else had. Robert knew how trying and difficult these times were for her, and he wanted nothing more than to be there for her, to share the pain he knew they were both feeling, and to show her how much he loved her, but she was making it difficult. He gave her space and time because he understood that there were feelings she had to sort through that were beyond what he could comprehend, and he wasn't without pain of his own, and so he'd thought that maybe if they both had time to feel the pain they were feeling individually and work through it on their own, they'd be able to share it with each other better when the time came and they were ready.
Except, it had been two weeks now since the incident and Cora had not spoken to him. She would answer in the bare minimum, a simple yes or no, maybe, or I don't know, sometimes she wouldn't say anything at all and would stare at him blankly like he'd been personally at fault for her losing the baby, which when the thought popped in his mind, he'd berate himself quickly and let the thought go. She was going through so much, and he was not going to be judgmental or bitter about her coping mechanisms. It's just that…he wanted so badly to be there for her.
Besides, he didn't know what her coping mechanisms really were, at this point, because apart from the short answers and blank stares, she'd kicked him out of the bedroom, telling him she needed more time to process all of it. He had never been kicked out of their bedroom, ever, never by her, even when they'd fought before, which was barely ever to be fair. But Cora had never spent a night away from his arms willingly since they'd decided to live together, maybe even before that, and it was just a tiny bit disconcerting that she would kick him out now.
Added to that was his own misery. It wasn't just her who'd lost a son, it was him, too, and he hadn't been able to keep the pain at the back of his mind, had brought it with him wherever he went. He'd talked to Rosamund, because she knew best how to cope, she'd explained Cora's side and had comforted him in his grief, too. He'd let himself cry with his sister's loving arms wrapped around him as he sobbed his heart out. In fact, Rosamund had been the only one to be able to reach out to Cora with good results, because Cora would only talk to Rosamund and no one else. Not even Phyllis had been able to coax out anything from her best friend. It was understandable, given Rosamund's own experiences, but sometimes he wondered about the toll it would take on his sister to have to revive this nightmare. Maybe not to herself, not this time, but it was a miscarriage nevertheless, and he had not wanted to put neither Rosamund nor Duke in that kind of position, not intentionally.
So he'd found himself crying in his office, most of the time on his own, for Cora, and the baby, and the relationship he's been trying to so hard to salvage. Cora seemed so distant now, so far out of his reach and he didn't know anymore what to do. They weren't unhappy, they didn't have the right to be—he supposed, but sometimes he wondered if he was not only grieving for the child he lost but for his own relationship.
Was Cora doing the same?
He hadn't the answers, and once he'd bawled, and bawled, had cried until his eyes were red and he felt like his chest was being held by a vise grip. It had been a few days after the funeral they'd held for the baby, even if there wasn't much of him to bury. He felt the overwhelming grief consume him, he'd been trying so hard not to show too much emotion to the people around him—he was a Brit after all, but he hadn't been able to help it this one time, and it had caused some alarm to his assistant because the next instant, Bates had been knocking on his door, poking his head in, asking if he was alright.
He'd looked his colleague and long time friend in the eye and shook his head.
"It was a boy," was all he'd said and it was the first time he'd said it aloud to anyone, really, apart from Cora, and the thought just ripped at his soul. He then had been so overcome by grief once more that he'd cried his heart out after he'd turned his back on his friend. He heard the door close softly, and he knew Bates understood his pain and was giving him space.
The moment was forever etched in his brain, even now as he drove home and tried to forget. It's been days since, but it's hard to not remember the way the pain had overwhelmed him. Putting his car on park, he'd tried to brace himself to whatever he might find inside. It'd been a very long day and even three weeks into losing his son, the emotions still tended to run high. It was even harder because his fiancé didn't want to open up, so the tension had gotten so thick and compressed.
He shook his head as he crossed the porch and turned the door knob. The door opened with a creak and no one was in sight. Molesely and the rest must have been doing their errands in the kitchen as it was nearing dinner time and no one was milling about the house, doing bits of work. Not that it mattered what time of the day it was, Cora refused to eat most of the food, going days at a time not eating anything then coming down to nibble on something then do the same for the following days. It wasn't healthy and more than once he had tried to talk her out of it, talk some sense into it, but she wasn't listening. She had been shutting him out, further and further away from her.
He made the trek upstairs, carefully making his way into the bedroom she'd kicked him out of. He might have acquiesced to her asking him to move out and sleep elsewhere, but he'd stubbornly left his things in their bedroom. It was their bedroom after all, and while he respected her space, he wasn't going to let her chase him out completely. She might have given up, but he wasn't going the same to her.
He hadn't even opened the door when he heard the broken sobs coming from inside the bedroom. His heart broke inside his heart, and he felt as though he's being ripped in two. She was hurting, he knew that, but she'd been so closed off that he'd been unable to see how deep the cut had run.
Without thinking about it, and honestly without needing to, he opened the door to their bedroom, and scooped her into his arms. She was lying on the bed, clutching the onesie they'd bought for the baby. It had been a simple white onesie with 'World's Cutest Baby' in gold lettering plastered on the chest. She'd been enamored with it, showing it to him with a bright smile. Now it felt like those times were fading into black.
He held her, let her break down and cry, because it probably healthier this way. She needed this, she needed to cry it out again to ease the pain sitting heavily on her chest. He felt tears stinging his eyes and he held back, held her tighter into his chest as sobs racked her frame and cries ripped from her throat. She was clinging to him now, hands desperately clutching the sleeve of his coat as she sobbed.
It took a while before she calmed down, till her sobs became whimpers and her tears dried and became tracks on her cheeks. He held her against him still, held her still until the tremors disappeared and she was breathing as normally as she could.
. . .
She had every intention of boxing the baby things and putting them away where she couldn't see them that afternoon.
She had asked Molesely to bring some boxes for her up in the bedroom. Most of the baby clothes were there because she'd been sorting through them, wanting to bring it with her to the other house before…well before everything that had happened in the last few weeks. She hadn't been able to look at any of it, much less touch any of it and had instructed one of the maids to shove it behind the closet somewhere she wouldn't be bothered with the sight of it. Until now, that was, because she'd told herself it was time to get back to normal, to force herself to get herself together and move on. She lost a baby, and it had been the hardest thing she'd ever had to go through.
Her mother had tried to comfort her, so did Ros, and Phyllis, and just about everyone she knew, but nothing they ever said help soothe her pain.
"You'll have another one," wasn't exactly soothing because she didn't want another one, she wanted the one in her womb, the one she was creating a room for, the one she'd felt fluttering inside her stomach. More would come later, or they wouldn't, she'd love and cherish them if they did, but she wanted her baby, the one that she'd buried not too long ago.
She'd been putting away the clothes she'd bought in the box when she'd come across the onesie she loved. It was simple and white with "World's Cutest Baby" etched on the fabric in gold lettering. It was her favorite so far, thinking that no matter what other people, she thought a baby she made with Robert with all the love they felt for each other could be nothing but cute anyway.
She'd bought it without the knowledge that the baby she loved so would never have the chance to wear it.
It's the thought crashing into her that made her fall apart. She couldn't control the tears that came thereafter, and the sobs that racked her body had been more powerful than her, had been something she could barely handle, and then she was lying on the bed, clutching the onesie in her chest like it was her last lifeline.
She hadn't heard the door open, but had felt Robert pick her up and cradle her into his lap, holding her close in his arms. She felt the pain intensify, knowing how hard this was for him too, and felt anger come crashing down on her as she thought of the unfairness of it all.
Her chest rose and fell in tune with the sobs leaving her mouth. The force of her tears hurt her, but nothing hurt more than the intensity of the pain she was feeling as thoughts ran inside her working mind. She thought of all the times she could have had with her baby.
She thought of how she could ever move on from this because right now the pain was eating her alive and was ruining the best relationship she had ever been in. She didn't blame Robert, for why should she? It wasn't his fault. It was nobody's fault. It was a spontaneous miscarriage, her doctor had said. But the pain was there, it's tangible and palpable and cutting through the ropes that tied them together, and she knew that if she didn't heal it, if she didn't do something to move on from the grief consuming her, she would destroy their relationship.
She needed to put a stop to this, needed to find it in her heart to move past this.
Her sobs turned to whimpers, and the tremors that shook her subdued until she was breathing as normally as she can in his arms. It took Herculean strength to not let his grief pour into her, and she never admired and loved Robert more than she did now for putting her needs above his.
She never hated herself more for what she was about to do.
"Are you okay?" he asked her softly, concern coloring his voice, making her close her eyes and breathe in deeply.
She nodded, but changed her mind. She wasn't going to pretend to be okay. She was not. She shook her head and then righted herself so that she was sitting on the bed, facing him. She grabbed his hand in hers and lifted it to her lips, placing a soft kiss on it. She moved it so that it was cupping her cheek, and she leaned in, closing her eyes, letting his warmth envelope her.
"I'm not okay," she admitted honestly. It was difficult to admit that to herself, even more difficult to admit it to him, but she needed it, needed to do this. "And I don't think I will be okay anytime soon. The grief…it's too much."
He nodded understandingly. Oh God, she hoped he understood her decision, too.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, and no, she didn't want to talk about it, but she knew that she had to. "If not with me, then someone else…a professional perhaps?"
She nodded. "I guess that's for the best," she agreed. "Robert, there's something else." She heard his breath hitch, and he looked at her with sadness in his eyes, like he knew what was coming. He probably did. "I…I need to…I feel like I need to heal this wound on my own."
His eyes widened, and he shook his head, almost wildly. "Cora…" his tone was pleading and she wanted to assure him that she'd changed her mind, that she wasn't going to do what they both know what she was about to do. But she couldn't do that. She didn't want to lie to him. "Aren't we stronger together?"
She nodded. She agreed with that, but... "I'm not strong enough to share what strength I have left," she told him. "I need to find my strength again before I could face this grief with you." It almost did not make sense, though in her head it did. She couldn't heal with him when she couldn't find healing in her own soul. She was going to just be destructive and she wasn't going to bring him down with her. Until she overcame her grief on her own, she wasn't going to be of much help in moving on to the better thing, the better life they'd always envisioned together. She was going to be stuck on this, functioning on the outside but rotting on the inside. She could not do that to him.
She wanted to love him the way she always has: without hindrance and without inhibitions, without the baggage and the limits she'd placed upon herself. He deserved nothing less.
"Cora," he began, but she pressed her finger onto his lips and lifted them only to place her lips against his and kiss him.
"I love you, Robert," she told him, and she knew what he was about to say, so she kissed him again. "I want to love you without this over our heads. Please…I only need time, and space."
His eyes filled with tears and she felt as though her soul was being ripped in two.
She fucking hated this.
"I love you Robert, never doubt that, but I can't love you like this…not when I'm so angry and so hurt that I can't…I can't tell it apart, Robert, my anger, and I need to settle it down before it ruins us completely. Please understand, we can't keep going on this way." He breathed deeply and closed his eyes. She leaned in and kissed his eyelids, and then his nose, before she pressed her forehead against his and nuzzled her nose with his. "It's not goodbye, it can never be."
"I love you, Cora," he whispered, and she knew then. She knew how much this was hurting him but he was willing to let her go so she can find herself again. It was how much he loved her.
She was hurting him and she didn't like it, but she saw no other way.
She was breaking his heart, she knew, but in the process, she was also breaking her own.
so please dont kill me in the comments. I promise it will get better! Let me know what you think! ?