His happiness was short lived.
He walked into the bedroom that night. Carla hadn't spoke to him at all that evening and he didn't know why. Instead she chose to lay curled up in bed pretending to be asleep. He knew from the very second he stepped in the house something was wrong, but no one would tell him anything. He gave up, he really did.
Carla sensed him standing there, leant against the door frame, his eyes firmly on her. She wondered why. She wondered why he bothered with her. She pulled the duvet closer to her body and sighed. The sheets were dotted slightly from where she had been lying for more than a few hours and her pyjama bottoms were stained, permanently stained. He said it could get heavy, but not this heavy. The white pillow cases were smudged with patches of make-up from where she had earlier broke down in tears and her body ached. Her heart especially. She clung to a now cold hot water bottle hoping and praying it could provide her with some comfort but it wouldn't, just like most things in her life it didn't seem to work.
She sighed he was still stood there, still stood just watching her. Couldn't he just leave her, to suffer in peace, alone. It's what she wanted.
"Carla what's wrong?" Paul asked. He was fed up, he had been trying so hard with her, so hard to make sure he was there for her. He was taking more and more time off work so they could spend more time together. But nothing seemed to work with her. The last few days had been wonderful. They had been out everyday shopping for their baby. It seemed quite silly, she was no more than a few weeks gone and they had already bought everything it needed.
He stood there a few more minutes but still she didn't respond. "I guess I'll be downstairs if you want me then." He muttered before walking away.
He returned a few hours later to much the same scene. It broke his heart to see her so upset over things he had no idea about.
"Can I get you anything? You must be hungry ey." He asked walking to sit beside her on the bed. She nodded and he smiled. At least this was progress.
"What is it you want?" Reaching forward he moved a few strands of hair covering her face. She looked so pale, so vulnerable. "Anything and I'll get you it."
Carla just looked at him. She wanted him just to hold her and tell her everything would be alright, even through it wouldn't. It couldn't be.
"Please" She mumbled. So helpless, so desperate, but for what Paul couldn't fathom.
"What is it ey?" He asked again, crouching down on the floor beside the bed. "Food, a cuddle, a bath, anything sweetheart."
"It's really sore." She groaned, her hands tightening the grip on the bottle beneath the covers. She looked at him, he looked concerned, but there was no need for him to be, the damage was done. It happened so quickly, so suddenly. All she was left with now were the memories of what could have been.
"What is it car', what's the matter?" He asked, so gently, so softly. He was worried, Carla never complained, never to him anyway. Yet here she was, apparently desperate for him to stay complaining of pain, he could only imagine must be unbearable.
"It's gone, everything's gone." She cried. Everything suddenly felt so hopeless again. The past few weeks had been a lovely insight into what it was like to be happy, but this was her life, her car crash of a life and nothing could ever remain pleasant. It was like a curse, the Carla curse.
"Carla what is it?" He sounded serious now. His expression had changed, no longer was it gentle and comforting. What was this cryptic code Carla was speaking.
"I'm sorry. It's gone." She whispered, tensing her body as another wave of pain coursed through her. She remembers what the on-call doctor had said at the time. The feeling of contractions was normal, it was her body rejecting and disposing of the foetus. The bleeding and cramping would last for a couple more weeks, but that again was also normal. There was nothing anyone could do, it was merely nature deciding the fate of her future. It was an unstoppable force, yet another tragedy she was forced to live with.