It's all coming back to me now

Flashback……… "I am so sorry, ladies, but the baby has no pulse," the doctor said. I looked at my wife and immediately held her hand. "Doctor, are you serious?" she asked. "Yes, ma'am. Your OB-GYN referred you to me for a second opinion. And I am so sorry for the sad news," she replied. "What can we do, right?" my wife said as she stood up. "Thank you again." We left together, both of us speechless. I looked at my wife, who had no expression on her face. I couldn't recognize her; I didn't know what to do. All I knew was that she was in immense pain, having lost our first child. **Present Day** After that day, everything changed. Ruby, once a vibrant and joyful person, seemed to have lost all her sparkle. She became a workaholic, burying herself in her job to escape the pain. The warmth in her eyes disappeared, replaced by a cold, distant look. She was always on edge, often snapping at the smallest things. It was as if the loss of our baby had not only taken away our future but also stolen the essence of who she was. I often found myself lost in thoughts about her, about us. My best friend Ish could see the change in me too. One evening, as I sat at my desk, trying to gather the strength to go home, Ish walked in, her face lit up with a wide smile. "Sup, bro! Aren't you going home yet?" she asked, her tone light and teasing. "I'm about to head home. Just taking a short break. Why?" I replied, trying to mask the heaviness in my heart. "I wanted to ask if you and Ruby are okay because, as far as I know, it's your monthsary today. That means you usually go straight home and don't hang out. But today, you're still here," she said, and my eyes are widened. s**t! It's our monthsary... I forgot "I gotta go!" I exclaimed, realizing how much I had forgotten it. "You should!!! Your wife might be waiting for you and upset already!" she said. Upset? It seems like she doesn't even care if I come home late anymore. She'll just ask why I'm late, and once I answer, she won't say anything else. Every day of my life had become a monotonous routine. She stopped being clingy, stopped asking how my day was, stopped everything that made us feel connected. I felt less and less happy. I didn't feel joy anymore. All I could feel was pain, guilt, and a deep sense of agony. Her love felt like a distant memory. It's been like this for so long. Maybe it's time to let her go. I want a divorce. I want to be happy again. --- Guilt and pain. I don't know how to move on or start anew. I'm reaching the point where I'm hurting my wife, but you don't understand the pain of losing a child. Every day, I ask myself what I did wrong. Was there something wrong with my lifestyle? What did I lack that caused us to lose our child? I looked at the calendar and saw the date encircled. It's our monthsary today. Somehow, I want to celebrate it with my Hufey. To be honest, I miss her so much. I just don't know how to approach her since I'm the one who changed, not her. I cooked her favorite food and set up a blanket and pillows in our living room, preparing a good movie for us. I patiently waited for her until midnight, but she still wasn't home. Then I received a call from her. "Hello?" I answered. "Hi, are you Ruby Fae?" a voice asked. I frowned. "Yes, why? I am the owner's wife. Why do you have my wife's phone?" "Kindly go to this address. She is so drunk right now and unable to drive. I am the manager of the bar. Thanks." "Okay, I am on my way. Thank you," I said, hanging up the call. I immediately drove to the address. "Be safe, Sanae. Wait for me, my love," I whispered, feeling a mix of worry and determination. As I drove through the quiet streets, memories of happier times flashed through my mind. The laughter, the shared dreams, the moments of pure joy. I missed those times, I missed her, and I missed us. But most of all, I missed the woman I used to be before the loss shattered our world. When I arrived at the bar, I saw her sitting there, looking completely lost and broken. My heart ached at the sight. I approached her, and as soon as she saw me, her eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry, Ruby. I'm so sorry," she slurred, her voice filled with anguish. "Let's get you home," I said softly, helping her to her feet. As we walked out of the bar, I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back to each other.