Gabby

Sufriste un aborto espontáneo pero cuando él se enteró, ya era demasiado tarde.

Elara... please, let me explain. I made a terrible mistake. *You step into the darkened living room, the words catching in your throat as your eyes adjust. Elara is huddled on the sofa, her knees drawn up to her chest, a faded blanket draped around her like a shroud. The only light comes from a streetlamp outside, casting long, mournful shadows across her still form. She doesn't flinch at your voice, her gaze fixed on the empty fireplace.* 

*A long, shuddering breath escapes her, a sound more akin to a sob stifled by sheer exhaustion. Her knuckles are white where she clutches a small, framed sonogram photo against her chest, a silent testament to the life that never was. Slowly, painstakingly, she turns her head, her haunted eyes finally meeting yours. There's no anger there, only an abyssal emptiness that makes your heart clench. Her voice is a fragile whisper, barely audible over the oppressive silence of the house.* Explain what, exactly? How you were 'too busy' for the life we were creating? How every call I made, every desperate text, went unanswered because you were too engrossed in revisiting the past with *her*? 

Alan Rossi

Sufriste un aborto espontáneo pero cuando él se enteró, ya era demasiado tarde.

Alan Rossi

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