AN: Only one more chapter to go. I hope the reason for their break-up isn't that predictable to you guys.

Italics indicate that the scenes are a flashback.

To blacksumo, Kaden-san, Unproper Grammar, kristenkay0606, SCrosby87, dancedivaw1309 & kaybaby1127, sxcthing123, Arlyn, thanks for the feedback/reviews.

Lastly, a big thank you to Holden for 'buying' this story. I hope you are enjoying this and you have no idea how happy it made me when you said that you're a fan of post-its! That wasn't even the plan when I first started writing this but next thing you know, post-its just became this driving force to get the story going.

I apologize for any grammatical mistakes or changes in tenses.

Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Troy Bolton ran a thumb up the bridge of his nose in hopes of stopping the throbbing spot slowly building between his brows. He was getting a headache and it wasn't even noon yet.

Worry joined in on the growing headache as he studied his wife's delicate features. Smudges of exhaustion underscored her eyes. Her usually kept appearance was now replaced by messy hair and no make-up. He could tell she'd lost weight too.

He'd gotten a call from his mother that Gabriella had fainted while she was having lunch with her daughter-in-law. He immediately rushed home and assured his mother that everything was going to be okay. If only that was the case, he thought to himself. After his mother left, he tried to make Gabriella eat. But she refused and only moved away from him. She now sat on the chaise, stoic and seemingly ignoring him.

"You have to eat, Gabi," he said, placing the bowl on top of the side table closest to her. "You can't keep doing this to yourself."

She didn't even move an inch, didn't even acknowledge his request.

It had been three months since it happened.

They've often said that the road to recovery was a long and slow process. Baby steps, as his father often said. Take it day by day. But with Gabriella, there was no progress. Hell, she didn't even talk to him anymore.

The longer she was silent, the stronger the desperation grew within him. Each day, the distance grew between them. He tried to control it, that undeniable anger slowly building inside of him. When he tried to comfort her, she pushed him away. When he tried to talk to her, she shut him down. And as he watched her wrap her arms around herself – as if he would lash out and hurt her, he soon realized that it was a losing battle from the moment they left the doctor's office.

He tried to reach for her, time and time again, only to be rebuffed. The more he tried to bridge the distance between them, the stronger she pulled away.

It was the cringe, the closing of her eyes as if she's in pain, and physically moving away from him that did it. And when he said he loved her and silence was her only response - that was when he finally walked out the door.

When she didn't even look back, when she didn't ask him to stay, he started running.

~.~.~

Maybe, Someday Soon

~.~.~

Fiddling with her keys, Gabriella pushed her down open, dragging her feet inside the house. It had been a long sixteen-hour shift and she was dead tired. It was these like days where she questioned her choice of keeping a house that was an hour ride – with traffic, away from her job. Placing her keys and bag in the foyer table, she groaned in disbelief at the sight that met her eyes.

The various medical journals and magazine that was left strewn about atop her coffee table were organized in a pile. Her blanket, the one she left haphazardly over her chaise was now straightened. It was the small things really. Things that wouldn't have caught her eye unless one was very much attuned to their husband's habits.

She groaned when she passed by the family room. Her newly washed clothes that were left in the basket from the night before were now neatly folded. And even without going into the kitchen, she knew, without a doubt, that the dirty dishes she had left unwashed from the past couple of days were now in the dishwasher, all clean and shiny.

She sighed and rubbed her temples, feeling the headache beginning to come on. She had only barely moved on after her old memories resurfaced when Taylor found the box. And now, he's evidently back.

Gabriella had a very bad feeling about this. Three years of no contact. Three years of not hearing from him and now, out of the blue, he was here. In her, no – their, home. He was still part-owner. She wondered why he was here. Last she heard, he was living happily in Albuquerque and dating, at least that's what she had heard from Chad. She would hear from his parents every now and then. It was more frequent shortly after he left. But after awhile, communication with the Bolton's slowly dwindled. Not that she could blame them. Troy was their son. And what she did – whatever happened between them put Jack and Linda Bolton in a very precarious position.

Why are you crying? A sixteen-year old Troy asked.

Gabriella tried to push away the unsettling feeling in her stomach. Tried to block the memories that now assailed her.

She remembered replying as she brushed the tears away. Because I finally decided that I can't keep waiting for a train that's never coming. And now you're here.

Troy Bolton had been East High's most popular – the king, if you will. He ruled on and off the basketball court. East High adored him. Why wouldn't they? He was charming. Engaging. Friendly. A people-person, her now-deceased mother had then described him. It was a surprise for her – and the rest of the East High masses, when the Troy Bolton finally made a move on the geeky Gabriella Montez.

She was fourteen when she first met him. They became fast friends – as close as they could get given the social circles they ran in. She never really thought that he would ever be interested in her. He had every girl throwing themselves at him – more so, as they got older. So, two years after just being friends, the fact that the serenaded her and asked her – her, the Einstenette, was a shock and at that moment, a dream come true.

She could still remember the feel of his hands as caught her hand and gently caressed her face with the other. His gaze rested on her and he moved closer, saying, This train just took a detour and got lost somewhere. But all that matters is now. I really, really, really like you Gabriella. And I guess what I'm trying to say is, did I miss my shot?

Gabriella hated that memory of all the ones in their teenage years. She hated reliving it, not because it was traumatic – far from it, even, but because it was the start of it all. She wasn't lying when she told Troy then that she wasn't looking for a boyfriend.

She recalled that cocky smirk he gave her. Always two steps ahead, aren't Montez? I just professed my undying like for you and you're already talking about love? He suddenly got serious. Good thing I'm already half in love with you, Montez. I'm in this for forever.

Too bad forever only meant ten years, Gabriella said to herself. She sighed and decided to forget about Troy for the time being. She had other, more important things to worry about. Whatever Troy came for, she'll just deal with. Like she's been dealing with the deterioration of their marriage ever since he left her.

Lifting the hatch to the patio, she pushed the French doors open to let some air in. She grabbed some of her gardening supplies underneath the kitchen sink and let out a small smile at the sight of her now clean sink. She walked past the counter and then suddenly halted.

Gabriella backtracked into the kitchen, staring at the object laying innocently on top of the kitchen counter.

A post-it.

Sign me.

Underneath the post-it were the words she should have seen coming. She didn't realize that she had dropped her supplies until she heard the bang when the metal hit her marble floor. She didn't realize that she had started crying until droplets of her tears fell into the brightly-colored sticky note.

~.~.~

"So, how'd it go?" were the first words out of Chad Danforth's mouth as he answered his phone.

Troy tried to mask the despair he felt when he answered back. "Fine."

"...which means you're not," was his best friend's immediate reply. "You didn't have to go there yourself, you know? You could have let someone else handle it. Your parents are worried."

"I know," he said, sighing, "But I needed to do this. It's the only way I could move on."

It was Chad's turn to sigh. "It's your life, dude. So, did you see her?"

"No, just left a note at the house."

"So, what now? You're staying until you finally see her face to face? Not the best idea, dude. After the last -"

"Chad!"

His best friend paused mid-rant, and sounding very repentant when he apologized.

"I don't know what I'm going to do okay?" Troy said, more forceful, as he sat down on the sofa. Pressing his fingers on his temple, he allowed himself a moment to take a deep breath before answering Chad's questions about Gabriella.

Gabriella.

His heart ached just thinking about her. One would think that after three years, he would have moved on by now. He told his friends that he had. He constantly lied to his parents that he's fine – that what happened with Gabriella was all in the past. And he'd like to think that for the most part, it was all in the past. He can pass by her old house in Albuquerque without flinching or reminiscing about their teenage years. He can hear their song playing in the radio without pining for her. Most of the time, he couldn't remember her at all. He couldn't recall her laugh. Or her scent. Or how her eyes twinkled when she's planning something. But there were times, he would admit – only to himself, that it all comes back to him at once and he remembered everything. Every single detail of their life together.

He was only thirteen when he first thought that Gabriella was pretty. She was his first crush. And last, his friends would always argue later on. The people he hung out with, especially Chad, never understand his fascination over Gabriella. They said she was too geeky. Too into school. Too much of a dork. At thirteen, he didn't know how to approach her. Not when it also meant that his friends would make fun of him. Because they were in different worlds, he never had an excuse to actually talk to her, which is why he was so happy when they got paired together for a science project when they were fourteen. It took him another two years before he could actually make a move. By then, he didn't care that his friends thought of her as a brainiac and hers thought of him as a dumb jock. All that mattered was her – and that she actually liked him back.

Maybe we shouldn't be together; he recalled her telling a sixteen-year old version of him. You deserve something who isn't a geek.

He remembered how he reacted at her suggestion. Hurt. Disappointment. But most of all anger. Not at her. But at shallow friends for making Gabriella doubt their relationship. At that time, they've only been dating for a few weeks. The first time they walked the halls of East High holding hands, the whole school was in an uproar. Some were totally for it. Others thought that he was breaking status quo too much.

They tell me I deserve the best, he responded as he took her in his arms, I think I deserve who I want, and who I want is you, Gabriella. Geek or not, I want you. They're just jealous that I got the smartest and prettiest girl in East High.

And she's all he had ever wanted. Needed. Even after all these years, she was still the one for him. But sometimes, love can only get you so far, he thought to himself as he recalled the reason for his visit to San Francisco.

"…dude, you still there?" Chad asked when silence was the only thing that answered all his inquiries. "Troy?"

Shaking his head, Troy answered back, apologizing for zoning out.

"I knew going back there by yourself was a mistake. We all told you."

"I'm fine, Chad." But his tone of voice said otherwise.

"You said that. Too bad it's all bullshit. You're still not over her?" It was a question they both knew the answer to. "And don't lie to me," Chad added.

"I wasn't going to," Troy replied. "She's just…"

"…Gabriella." Chad finished, saying her name as if that alone explained it.

"And I thought I'd seriously be over her by now. It has been three long years of no contact. But Gabriella's just…"

"…different."

"I really wish I could move on already. But I…"

"…still love her."

"Yeah," Troy said dejectedly, "I still do."

Chad exhaled before saying, "Then I think bringing her divorce papers is the wrong way to go about this."

Troy furrowed his brows. "What?"

"Like you said, it's been three years and you're still not over her. I may not be the girl's biggest fan right now but I've been there since the beginning, Troy. I was there when you were courting her. I helped you plan the proposal. You guys just match, you know. And shit did happen between the two of you but you can't deny true love. You guys have been apart for far too long. You've both run away from your problems. Maybe it's time to finally face them."

Troy smiled. "When did you get so smart and sentimental?"

"Suck it, dude. Just go and get your girl because seriously, these past three years, you've just been a mess without her. You've just been moping and shit."

Troy let out a genuine laugh. The first in a very long time.

~.~.~

A movement from the chaise, the one closest to the patio doors, was the first thing that broke through Gabriella's haze as she entered her house. She froze, her hazel brown eyes pinned to the figure sitting calmly and when he waved hello, she forgot how to breathe.

They stared at each other for a moment, taking it all in. She noticed that his hair was slight longer. His built was bigger, more toned. He was more of a man – more aged, than she remembered. Three longs years does that to you, her mind said.

"I guess you still have the house keys." She said, breaking in the silence. Her voice sounded strange to her, as if she hadn't used it before.

Something in her voice made Troy defensive. "It's still my house too, isn't it?"

His eyes roamed across the living room, avoiding her gaze. His expression was guarded and Gabriella could tell from his jaw that he was tense.

"How are you?" He asked, politely.

"I'm good," she answered civilly.

"Good," he repeated.

Silence.

"You?" She asked, asking anything just to make the silence go away.

He looked at her then. "Fine."

More silence enveloped the room.

"I saw the divorce papers," she managed to choke out. Gabriella steeled herself for his response.

"Okay."

Gabriella stared down at her lap, not knowing what else to say. She could feel him watching her and she prayed for the strength to get through this in one piece. She wasn't ready, she kept telling herself. She wasn't ready to see him in person. She wasn't ready to face him yet. She thought that she'll never be ready. Not when it concerns him.

She took a deep breathe, planning on rationally and calming initiating a discussion over the divorce proceedings. He was obviously ready to get on with his life and finally be legally free of her. Signing the papers was the least she could do. She told herself that there was no use dwelling over the past. Whatever happened, happened. It was done, she repeated to herself a few times as she finally looked back up at him.

She stared at him, and stared. Her face was blank, her features expressionless – a mirror image of his own expression, she was sure. Talk about the future, Gabriella thought to herself. We're both moving on.

"You left me."

It took her a second to realize that the words – the accusation, actually came out of her lips. Apparently, her mouth worked on a different wavelength as her brain.

Even from the distance, she saw the blood drain from his face. He stood, hands balled into fists, every muscle in his body taut with tension. His blue eyes, normally lucent and bright, were flashing with rage.

"I left?" He practically shouted. "I'm sick to death of hearing it from everyone. Especially you. I've had enough."

It only took him a few strides before he was standing in front of her. "Yes, I was the one who walked out. I fucking left you. But you," he continued, leveling a finger at her, "were the one how drove me to it. Every single damn day and night, it was the same. Complete silence from you. It was like I was constantly talking to a wall. You couldn't even look at me. And whenever I tried to get close to you, to comfort you and just hold you, you cringed every single damn time. What was I supposed to do?"

Hurt and indignation pushed into her throat. "I was hurting."

"And you thought I wasn't?" He bit out, his voice clipped and pissed. Troy breathed in, willing the anger to go away. He thought he was over it. He thought he had already moved on.

"Fuck this," he said after he regained his composure. "Just sign the divorce papers and I'll go back to Albuquerque and you can live your happily ever."

He grabbed his bag and strode to the front door. He opened it, took a step out but before he fully left, he turned, eyes filled with pain. "You weren't the only one who was hurting. He was my son too."

The moment he shut the door gently behind him with a sound click, something tore inside her. Her cool and calm façade immediately vanished. Leaning against the wall, Gabriella Montez began to cry.

~.~.~

"Mrs. Bolton," he paused, obvious difficulty in his voice, "I, uh, I'm so sorry."

She pushed a strand of chestnut hair from her eyes. She was shaking so hard that strands fell back in her face the moment she withdrew her hand. "I… I don't understand."

His voice turned gravelly. "Its -"

"I don't understand. What do you mean?" she asked, interrupting him.

"Gabriella…"

"What do you mean?" She asked again, her voice rising – more hysterical. "There was a heartbeat. Two weeks ago, with my last check up, there - there was a heartbeat. I heard it. I have a recording of it, back at the house. There was a heartbeat. "

"Gabriella, you need to calm down," he said softly.

"Where's my baby?" Panic clawed the back of her mind. And she tried to remember how to breathe.

"There's no heartbeat, Gabriella." He shuffled some documents – sonograms of her child, and looked at her with kindness in his eyes, sympathy. "And from what I can see, your baby has stopped growing at eleven weeks."

"I don' understand," she began, shaking her head. Her grip on her stomach tightened. "I don't… there was a heartbeat. My baby..." Tears now flowed freely down her cheeks. Her throat felt raw and her voice was raspy when she continued, "There was a heartbeat."

"Mrs. Bolton, you need to breathe."

He's not dead, a tiny disbelieving voice spoke up inside her. Her baby was alive. He was just asleep. Dimly, she realized that Dr. Johnson was still talking, explaining. She could see his mouth moving, but she couldn't hear the words.

She felt numb.

Every day we wake up and we think that everything's the same. That nothing ever changed. And if it did, there will be that one moment - a feeling, a shift in the wind or something that warned us of our impending doom. She did not have that. She felt nothing. Maybe that was her sign.

He was only eleven weeks old. Eight more days and they would have announced their pregnancy to the world.

He was only eleven weeks. The baby books she had read said that at this stage, her baby's organs have nearly formed. His tiny fingers and toes would have already separated. He was beginning to take shape. They even heard his heartbeat. And now… now, he's dead.

Imagine waking up one day to find that someone you know or someone close to you - someone you love suddenly died. You start shaking him or her. Willing them to wake up. But the life has gone out of their bodies.

He has stopped breathing.

His heart has stopped beating.

He was so tiny. She couldn't even hug his lifeless body close to her so she could try and feel his warmth. But what used to be warm has now turned cold. She called out his name - Alexander, after Troy's grandfather, but he could not hear her. He just laid there, so still and white. The doctor kept referring to him as an unborn fetus, but to her, he was Alexander. Even at eight weeks old, she had already started calling him by that name. She wasn't even sure of the sex of her baby but she knew - her baby was going to be a boy. He was Alexander - that she was sure of. And somehow, the more she called her baby of his name, the more that made him more real, more hers.

He was not just an unborn fetus of at most two inches in length. He was a person. He was her son. Her Alexander.

And then it finally dawned on her that he simply was not there anymore.

Death.

It just seemed so unreal. So far away. But the funny thing was, death was never a surprise. They say that every beginning has an end. That death - dying was inevitable. That it was all a part of a vicious cycle. Simply put, death was something everyone expected. You live. And you die.

But as she stared at the picture of his now lifeless body, she thought about the tragedy of it all.

How can you expect an end when life never even fully began?

~.~.~

'Bitter and hardened heart
Aching waiting for life to start
Meet me in the morning when you wake up
Meet me in the morning then you'll wake up'

Bend and Break, Keane

Again, for reassurances, this is still very much a TG-story.

That last scene was the only thing I had written for this story. I had ideas (tons of them) about how this story was going to play out. The plot changed quite a few times throughout the years but that very last scene when Gabriella found out she lost her child was the only thing that stayed the same.

I've never experienced anything like it so I hope I did the feelings of losing a child some justice.

Also, the first scene in italics happened after the scene with Gabriella and the doctor. Just in case it confused anyone.

Reviews are always appreciated.

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