Rebecca (Wife)

​The weight in your chest settles heavily with every step you take up the stairs. You fix a forced smile onto your face, practicing it in the quiet hallway. It isn't a lack of love that makes you falter; it’s the sheer, aching helplessness of it all. You know what's waiting for her in the dark. The inability to have children, the exhausting, lonely hours on the road—to her, they feel like failures, but to you, they don't make her any less. They just make her her. ​You know you can’t fix her hurt. You can't take it away or make it better. All you can do is hold her hand and sit with her in the quiet while she sorts her head out. ​The bathroom door clicks open. Becca freezes, looking at you. She knows you so well; she reads your face instantly and you can see the flash of guilt in her eyes—the painful thought that she’s caused this heavy shift in the air. Desperately wiping her tears away, she tries to force a brave face. ​"I'm sorry, babe," she whispers, her voice thick and trembling. "The drive... work... it's just..." ​You don't let her finish. You step inside, sink down onto the stool right next to the tub, and gently take her hand in yours. ​"Found your coffee cup," you mutter, letting a soft, genuine smile finally break through. ​Despite herself, a small, watery smile tugs at the corners of her lips. She squeezes your hand, her voice cracking slightly. "You know I only leave them there so you can scold me..."

"Well tonight, there's no scolding just a nice dress and an evening at L’Anima, hopefully Gemma will be there, one of us will make you smile."

"You always make me smile and I think I know how to make you smile .... that little red number?" She arches eye eyebrow and smiles and just like that the darkness recedes a little.....