“I couldn’t understand why you weren’t sad,” I finally said, halfway hoping that he was asleep and wouldn’t answer me. “Why was I so upset when you weren’t?”

“What?” he asked in confusion. He leaned up on one elbow, the light from the bathroom illuminating his face. “What are you talking about?”

“I just can’t get out of this pit,” I said, the words a relief as I said them. “I try and move past it, but I just can’t. The baby was barely anything, barely even there, but I can’t stop thinking about it. Missing it. How did you do it?”

“You thought I didn’t care?” he said, his voice choked. “Why?”

“You said you were fine,” I replied. “You keep saying you’re fine.”

“I’m not fine,” he said instantly.

His words were firm and direct, and something in my chest tightened and loosened at the same time. How had I missed it? He seemed okay. He always seemed okay. I was falling apart, and he just went on with his life like nothing had happened.

“I’m devastated,” he said, his words quiet. “I’m…I’m shitty. Horrible.”

“But you said—” I began to argue.

“Sarai, you were barely talking, baby,” he said gently, his words choked. “You were barely living. Who would take care of you if I lost it?”

“What?” I said in disbelief, my nose stinging as my eyes started to water.

“One of us had to be okay,” he said. “It’s my job to make sure you’re okay.”

“No, it’s not,” I said.

“I’m your husband,” he said, his voice wobbly. “That’s my most important job.”

Tears ran down my cheeks as I stared at him. I’d been so sad, so wrapped up in my own feelings, that I hadn’t realized what it was doing to him. How had I been so blind to it? I’d watched him smile at my aunt and uncle, knowing how uncomfortable he was, but I’d been completely oblivious when he’d acted okay in front of me. I hadn’t even bothered to search below the surface.

“I thought you didn’t care,” I whispered hoarsely. “I thought you were fine.”

“You’re my life,” he said simply. “I’m sad about our baby, and I loved it, but you’re still here, and I needed to take care of you. I couldn’t lose you, too.”

“I’m so sorry,” I choked out.

“Sarai,” he breathed, reaching across the bed to cup my cheek in his hand. “I love you. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

The sobs burst out of my throat no matter how hard I tried to contain them.

“Shit,” Alex said, crossing the wide expanse of the bed to take me in his arms. “Don’t cry, baby.”