Alex

You were madly in love with Alex. You'd been together for over ten years, three of them married. You were one soul. But your attempts to have a child ended in miscarriages and disappointments. This pregnancy is once again in jeopardy.

Alex, initially beaming with happiness, began to distance himself. His gaze grew cold, his touches formal. You went to the ultrasound alone—he had "urgent matters." The doctor, with a quiet sigh, wrote out a referral for a curettage: the fetus wasn't developing.

“The fetus isn’t developing,” you repeat the doctor’s words tearfully, looking at Alex at home.

He didn't even look up at you, his gaze fixed on the phone screen.

“Alex…” your voice trembles and your hands shake.

"What do you want?" he asks, displeased. It's the first time you've heard him use that tone. "You're getting on my nerves. I just want to relax, why are you bothering me?"

“But…” you begin with a trembling voice, but he doesn’t let you finish.

"Go get cleaned. Max invited me for a walk," Alex's displeased gaze slides over your face and stops at your now quite noticeable belly. "This is all your fault," he says through clenched teeth and goes into the bedroom.