Chapter 2 WE ALL GRIEVE DIFFERENTLY

Evelyn's POV ---

I woke up feeling like I hadn't slept at all.

The room was too quiet. The kind of quiet that isn't peaceful - just empty. It was the same guest room I'd been in for days, though it still felt borrowed, like I didn't belong.

I lay still for a long time, blinking at the ceiling.

My body ached. My stomach felt hollow, like it had been scooped out. But it wasn't just my body that was sore - it was my soul. My heart. My everything.

When I finally got up, I moved like someone underwater. Slow. Careful. Numb.

I walked to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror.

I didn't cry. Not because it didn't hurt - but because I was afraid if I started, I wouldn't stop.

My reflection looked foreign. Pale skin. Hollow eyes. My lips were dry. My hair hung loose, uncombed.

I whispered to the woman in the mirror, "You were pregnant. It was real. It happened."

I needed to say it out loud. Because he hadn't. Because maybe if I kept saying it, I wouldn't start to believe his silence.

---

I went to the kitchen and made breakfast like I always did.

Toast. Scrambled eggs. A bowl of cut fruit.

I set the table for two.

Habit.

Stupid, foolish habit.

I stood there, staring at the plates, asking myself why. Why was I still trying? The front door opened.

Damian stepped in, talking on the phone. His voice was soft, relaxed.

He ended the call before entering the kitchen, stuffing his phone into his pocket like it didn't matter.

When he saw me, he gave a small nod. "Morning."

I just looked at him.

He sat down, picked up a slice of toast, took a bite, and casually reached for his phone again.

I sat across from him, hands in my lap. My appetite was gone, but I had to ask.

"You didn't ask about the baby."

He didn't even look up.

"I figured if you wanted to talk about it, you would."

I stared at him. My hands trembled slightly. "I told you last night. I called you."

"I know." He finally looked at me, but there was no emotion in his face. "I was with Lillian. I told you she needed me."

"I needed you," I said softly. "Damian, I was-"

"We all grieve differently, Evelyn." His tone sharpened like a knife hidden in silk. "You always take things so personally."

I swallowed hard. "I lost our child."

He scoffed. "It wasn't a child. It was a bunch of cells. A mistake. We agreed we didn't want kids."

My throat burned. "You said that. I never agreed. I just... stayed quiet."

"Well, that's not my fault, is it?"

He stood up, stretching like he'd finished a nice meal. Not like he'd just gutted me with his words.

"I'm meeting Lillian for lunch. She's helping me with a presentation." My heart stuttered. "Today?"

He glanced at the time. "Yeah. I promised her. Don't make it a thing."

"What about me?"

He stopped walking. Looked at me like I was an inconvenience.

"This is why I said we needed space, Evelyn. You're always trying to make me feel guilty. I can't breathe around you."

My lips parted, but I couldn't find words. He grabbed his keys and walked out. No goodbye.

No pause.

Just... gone.

---

I cleaned the kitchen again.

Even though it wasn't dirty.

I wiped the counters. Washed the already-clean dishes. Scrubbed the sink until it was shining.

The smell of lemon cleaner filled the air.

I stood there with the sponge in my hand, staring into the steel basin, wondering how a house could feel like a stranger.

---

By afternoon, I sat on the couch, holding a pillow tight to my chest. The TV was on, but I wasn't watching it.

My thoughts were loud. Too loud.

He's meeting her.

She gets his time. She gets his attention. She gets his care.

I couldn't remember the last time he looked at me like I was worth choosing.

---

He came home late.

Laughing into his phone as he walked through the door. "No, no, you're right. You always get me, Lily."

That name again.

Lily.

Not Evelyn.

Never Evelyn.

---

I stood up and walked to the kitchen, trying to focus. Just something to do with my hands.

I picked up the plate from my sad, cold dinner and moved to wash it.

But my hand slipped.

The plate shattered in the sink - a sharp, loud crack that echoed in the silence like glass breaking inside my chest.

I stared at the shards.

Still didn't cry.

Still didn't move.

Damian's voice called from down the hall. "What was that?"

I didn't answer.

I just kept staring at the broken pieces.

At least something finally looked how I felt.

---

["What broke?" he asked.

Me, Damian. I think it was me.