Hours later, the doctor confirmed what I already knew in my heart. Our baby was gone.
Mike spent the entire night crouched outside my hospital room.
Praying for a different outcome—one that would never come.
For the first time, it seemed reality had finally caught up with him.
He broke.
The moment I woke up, he stumbled to my bedside and dropped to his knees with a heavy thud.
Then he started slapping himself.
Again and again.
The sharp smacks echoed through the room.
"Susan... I'm sorry. I'm a piece of trash. I'm sorry."
Tears streamed down his face.
"We can start over. I'll get rid of Jennifer and her son. I'll never step foot in that seafood market again. Please, Susan..."
I looked at him. And felt nothing. Not hatred. Just emptiness.
"Do you remember when we first started
