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Some phrases should be banned from a situation like this: 'I'm so sorry' and 'you can try again' are two of them.

All I remember is someone with a melancholy look on his face telling me he's a doctor, giving me his condolences before telling me the best cause of action is to let the miscarriage happen naturally.

Nothing apart from 'it's called a missed miscarriage' and 'there's no heartbeat' along with those two banned phrases went in. I remember Mia popping a bunch of scan photos into an envelope and handing them to me along with a few leaflets. I think they relied on the fact Gray knows about it as a nurse to help me through it so they didn't have to tell me multiple times what to expect.

I sit in my bed an hour after they released me from the hospital and look at the scattered leaflets and the envelope. I dared to look at one of them before they let me go and it had looked like a seahorse like Gray had said it would at seven weeks when it had stopped growing.

All I remember after that was being led through the same plain white and cold walls of the hospital with Gray's hand in mine, so he could grab his stuff. I was sitting in a small staff room, full of mugs of cold coffee and tea, while I heard him telling who I assume was his boss.

I could hear him cry through the thin door.

That was enough to set the itch off on my skin and the blame searing down my face.

It doesn't matter how many years we didn't see each other; it doesn't matter how toxic our 'relationship' has been since he came home, the fact will always remain that when Gray is hurting, I will hurt and vice versa. No matter who was going to father the baby, it was always Gray's biologically. Tyler and I may have lost our opportunity to be parents with this, but Gray has also lost a baby, and his confession the other night just solidifies that. He did have thirty-two more weeks to get over it, but now he doesn't, it's his loss as well as mine and Tyler's.

I remember at that realisation, grabbing a plaster from the first aid box on the side and covering the three moon-shaped wounds I'd dug in my skin to stop the itch of blame and dry the blood.

Neither Gray nor I said anything on the drive home.

He walks in with a glass of water and his phone. He's spent the last hour trying and failing to get hold of Tyler.

"He's not answering, I've left a bunch of messages," Gray says gently. He's still in his scrubs, but he picked his clothes up from his locker. I guess changing is the last thing on his mind.

He sits on the side of the bed, but I can't bring myself to look at him. We both know the pain because we both feel it, but if I look at him, I'll break down.

"Did you tell him?" I manage and start biting the sleeve of his hoodie. I remember him putting it around me as I shivered in the staff room. It makes it harder to reach my wrist though which burns with the need to scratch.

"No, I'll wait until he can answer. Probably best that way." His hand reaches over and engulfs mine.

I finally look at him, and I can tell he's been crying. He forces a small smile, and he squeezes my hand. My hand has always been smaller than his but for me, it's always been perfect that way because if I need comforting, his hand will always cover mine like a warm jacket in the cold.

I dread to think what's going to happen when Tyler finds out; in a way, I don't know whether it's going to tip him into the meltdown he's been on the verge of since he got his diagnosis, or whether it'll just crush him. I feel the weight of it on my wrist, the meltdown, the anger, the blame.

He could just shrug it off and do exactly what I thought he might do ages ago: demand more of Gray. I know in turn if he does that, that will tip Gray over the edge. That weighs me down even more. Gray doesn't deserve that, even if he was an arsehole before this.

"What will happen?" I ask. "If, and when, you know, it starts."

He sighs, clearly not wanting to talk about it. He's mourning too, and I keep having to remind myself that although he was going to relinquish his father's rights, it must still hurt.

"Do you really want to know?" he asks. I nod in response, so he carries on. "Okay, my nursing voice it is. It'll be like a heavy period. You might get cramps, but you might not."

"Will I see...?"

"You might miss it, but if you don't, it's up to you what you want to do—" He stops speaking and without warning, both of us grab for each other, folding each other in the other's arms.

The itch starts again, the blame fully at my feet.

Was it something I did? Was it because I said I didn't want this?

My hand burrows under the sleeve of the hoodie and I claw at the exposed bits of skin beside the plasters.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm so sorry, Gray."

"Tabs, it's not your fault. You've got nothing to be sorry about." He lets go of me and looks me straight in the eyes despite both of us having tears flowing down our faces. "I know this doesn't help right now, but there is literally nothing you could've done."

His words stop the clawing, and for the second time since he returned into my life, I don't see a man I love romantically. I see my best friend: the one who used to scare the monsters away when I was scared, who wiped my tears away, the one who always took care of me.

I wipe my face with the sleeve and give him a small smile that I know doesn't reach my eyes. "I saw the posters and leaflets dotted about how every one in four ends in miscarriage. After everything I've been through, I never thought it would be me."

"Hey, it's okay. Come here." He folds me up in his arms again.

"I said—I told you and Freya that I didn't want this. It's because of that, isn't it? I didn't want it, but it hurts—"

"It's not because of that. I promise you."

His words seep in; he promised. Since he came back, he hasn't given me one promise, and it's been on purpose. But since the night in the park, I've been able to trust him.

This one promise I think I believe. He says it with genuine gentleness and conviction that I just trust him with everything I have.

I remember I was ill with the flu when I was fourteen. Gray came over to mine to look after me so my parents could go to work. He stayed for the whole week I was essentially bedridden, not caring if he caught it, and not bothered about the fact that he cancelled his work experience just so he could look after me. At one point, I was so upset because I ruined his summer and I was so ill, that he just sat on the bed and folded me in his arms for hours. I remember it was the only place for so long I felt safe and comfortable that I lay there until I fell asleep, and I woke up as his platonic little spoon.

Right now, I'm his platonic little spoon again. It's the only place I don't want to scratch myself raw and it's the only place where I'm not feeling any kind of blame for ruining Tyler's life when he gets home because I know although Gray's feeling this too, he will never, ever blame me.

My phone starts vibrating and we both don't need to look to know who it is.

"I got it. Get some rest, Tabs," Gray whispers, grabbing my phone before I can even reach it. He presses a small kiss on my hair before I lie down.

I listen to him answer the phone before he closes the bedroom door.



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Tyler appears in the doorway, eyes ringed red and puffy. He opens his mouth to say something, but I can tell those words fail him. Instead, he sits beside me.

I stare at him; he's at a loss for words. His black hair is out of place, his tie is loosened, his shirt is wrinkled, his eyes are heavy and all I want to do is reach for him. My husband, my rock, the man who patched me up after Gray broke me. Yet, he can't even look at me right now.

I remember in the early days of our relationship; I would give out this tiny whimper whenever I needed a cuddle or when I wanted to crawl onto his lap and find solace in his arms. He usually happily obliged, folded me in his muscular arms and kissed my hair. That's all I want now.

"Tabs, I...I should've been there. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry," he cries. He doesn't reach for me like I thought he would. I make the little whimper, but he doesn't acknowledge it. "Our first ray of hope ever and it's just... gone."

"Tyler, I—look," I manage and hand him the scan photo. He takes it and his fingers brush the paper. "The doctor said it happened last week, and there was nothing anyone could've done. We're just the one in four."

"What could've happened?" Tyler whispers, not looking at me. He's staring at the scan in his hands and my chest quickens with the pain of watching him break down.

After everything—four years of nothing, of hopes being dashed and questions, after the blow at the appointment and after everything that's happened with Gray, it ends like this. Just when we thought we had the light at the end of the tunnel and when we thought we could finally breathe.

It's Gray that walks in and saves me from giving him a non-answer. "Sometimes it's just chromosome issues, sometimes it's just an issue with the way the sac sticks to the womb. There's no rhyme or reason. It can happen to anyone. Sometimes it happens so early on that some women don't even know and think it's a normal period."

Tyler's eyes cloud over, but the tears still fall from his eyes. He holds the scan photo like it's the last thing he'd save in a housefire and stands from the bed. He stares at me but there is no care in his eyes, just anger.

"Tyler..." I reach out my hands to hug him, but he just turns around and storms past Gray, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

"Tyler!" I call after him and open the door, following him into the kitchen. He's pouring a whiskey, but I notice one glass instead of two, or even three.

"Four years, Tabs. We've done this ridiculous dance for four years: timing sex, taking ovulation tests, fucking every other fucking day. Four years, Tabs. After everything, we just happen to be the statistic?" Tyler snaps.

Gray appears behind me, but he makes no move to say or do anything besides be a referee.

The itch comes back with his words because the three of us all know where this is leading. We all know which road he's about to go down. I remove the hoodie and my nails start their work. The words follow me around: I'm so sorry. You can carry on trying. There's no heartbeat.

They have no idea what I did to be in that room this morning. They had no idea the shit a couple goes through; they just smile sympathetically and tell you to carry on trying like it's as simple as having sex.

"Tyler, it—"

"No, Tabs, it's fucking karma yet again! It's getting a bit hard to ignore now. I guess because I defend criminals for a living. The one time we get something, we get it taken away because I'm fucking good at my job, right?"

"That's not quite how it works, Tyler. There's no—"

"I know that." Tyler's anger turns to Gray, and I know exactly what he's going to do next. We all do.

"Tyler, don't—"

"No, Tabitha. This isn't my karma, because this wasn't my kid. This is yours. Funny how the minute he comes back into your life things start going wrong. Your husband can't give you kids, but your ex-boyfriend can. The minute you two sleep together, this happens. Funny old world, isn't it?"

"Tyler, I know you're shocked, but that's not fair," I squeak.

Tyler downs his drink and approaches me. My nails continue their scrubbing, needing his words to be wrong, but they're not. No one can deny it.

"Oh, what, are you going to tell me that you shagged him so we could have kids? I'm not stupid! You two fucked because you're still in love with each other. Well, guess what? He's the one that left you high and dry, Tabitha. I was the one who picked up the pieces for you, I'm the one who put you back together again, made you whole. Not him. Gray left you for seven years. I might not be able to produce enough sperm but I'm more than a man than he'll ever be, and don't you fucking forget it next time you two are in our fucking bed together."

"Tyler, I don't love Gray. I love you—"

"Don't lie to yourself, Tabitha, you never stopped loving him," Tyler snaps. "You lost our child—"

"That's enough." Gray moves me back and the two of them square up to each other as if they're about to box each other. "This is not her fault and it's not yours, Tyler."

I feel the warm trickle of blood build up on my skin where my nails haven't stopped. They make no move to stop either.

Tyler's words hit me like bullets, each one sharper than the last.

For a full thirty seconds, Tyler stares past Gray at me, and I can see his nose flaring as he breathes, anger slowly dissipating until he chokes on a sob.

The sound is like someone choking as they die; the way he does it is enough to send me into panic mode, and the loud sobbing as he breaks down shatters me into pieces like a fine China plate thrown by a small kid who doesn't know the value of such things.

"I'm sorry." Tyler sobs. The words he stabbed me with a minute ago melt away like lemon drops. I find myself next to him on the sofa, comforting him. He still makes no move to reciprocate, but I know he's in shock.

"Shit, the trial," Tyler remembers, almost pushing me back. He grabs his phone and walks into the bedroom.

"Stupid question: are you okay?" Gray asks.

"How will I know when ... when it starts?" I ask, ignoring his question.

"I don't know. You might get pains before; some women say they get contractions like they're in labour almost—"

"Gray."

"Sorry, I know but there's no other way to describe it," he says. "There's no definitive answer." I go to answer when Tyler bursts back into the lounge.

"They're refusing to 'allow' me to have any type of leave, whether it be compassionate or otherwise," Tyler roars.

The moment his fist collides with the door, I sink further into the sofa, tears overflowing like burst rivers during a storm. Only when I look down do I notice I'm still scratching.

"Mate—"

"I work my fucking arse off—"

"Tyler, please," I manage. It's finally that that stops Tyler from carrying on and for the first time since he got home, he looks me in the eyes.

"I'm sorry," he sighs. His whole demeanour finally changes and he's my husband again. "I mean, I guess...there's nothing I can do, Tabs."

"I'll be fine. I'll have the whole house—"

"I'll stay," Gray pipes up. "I mean... I'm a nurse. My boss gave me time off anyway." None of us mentions the reason why he got the time off is that the baby I lost is his.

"Gray, you don't need to do that," I say. "I'm fine."

"Would you mind?" Tyler asks, completely ignoring my existence. Gray nods. "I have no idea how long the trial will last."

"It's fine."

The two of them finally hug it out, leaving me to wonder why I haven't yet had a hug from my husband.



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I hear them talking in the kitchen. I stop and stay hidden behind the door so I can listen.

"I'm worried about her," Tyler hisses.

"What makes you—"

"Mate, you're a nurse. Don't tell me you haven't noticed. Ever since... you two she's been acting... weird. She keeps scratching when she thinks I'm not looking; anxious is the only way to describe it. The only reason I want you around her right now is to look out—"

"Tyler, mate, I'm her friend—"

"You think I'm stupid? It might've been our child, but I can see you mourning," Tyler snaps.

Gray's sigh rings out like a lovesick ballad, and it hurts my chest. "She tell you we had it out while you were gone?"

"She did," Tyler says. "Said she ran into you while out and you both made up properly."

"We're getting there again; it's obvious it's you who she loves, Tyler. I broke that and I get it. I respect it. She's been my best friend since I was four. What we did was a stupid mistake—"

"You're telling me," Tyler snaps.

"She loves you, and you know it. Whatever we had, I broke it seven years ago. We just... it was a stupid mistake and I have to deal with the consequences. Don't crucify her forever, Tyler."

They both fall silent.

"She's struggling. She has been since we slept together. I saw it when she told me she was pregnant, I tried to approach it. It was worse earlier before the scan. So, yeah, I saw it. I just... didn't want to overstep any more fucking boundaries than I already have," Gray admits. "It's not my speciality but the scratching is self-harm. You know her better than me, but I'm wondering if she's got some kind of... mental health issue going on because... because of me."

I hear the anguish in those three words: because of me.

If he thinks I'm ill because of him: first, that's bullshit because I'm not ill. Second, it's not him. It's me. I slept with Gray, I betrayed my husband, I brought Gray into our lives, and I lost the baby I conceived. The baby Tyler wanted.

"She won't admit to shit," Tyler says. "Either way, we're both worried. She needs... I don't know anymore."

"What she doesn't need is you blaming her," Gray pipes up.

"She knows full well I don't blame her. I... reacted. I'm perfectly... well, I wouldn't say perfect. But...I don't blame her. Or you. I should've been there; I should've told them to shove their fucking job up their arse—"

I pad into the kitchen, earning both of their worried looks. The only eyes I have are for Tyler.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"I'll go," Gray announces. Neither of us acknowledge him as Tyler's eyes fire into mine and his hand cups my cheek.

"Hey, no. I'm sorry, Tabs. I shouldn't... I shouldn't have... this is no one's fault," he laments.

I lean my head against his chest.

The thump, thump, thumps of his heart are like gunshots. The regret, the torment, and the loss are more than we can put into words.

I hear the front door close after Gray leaves, and Tyler lets me go.

"Tabs... I'm worried about you," he whispers.

"I'm okay," I lie. "I just...do you really blame me?"

He sighs deeply. His hand rests under my chin. "No, I don't. I don't blame him either. I don't... I was angry, shocked... all right? I'm sorry."

I nod and fall back into his hold. Both the roll of sobs we've been holding overwhelm us and

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