Derek’s hands were shaking as he pushed open the bedroom door. The letter and sonography pictures were clutched so tightly in his fist that the paper was creasing. Stiles was sitting on the edge of their bed, tiny nightdress riding high on her thighs, face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.
“Baby…” His voice cracked. He dropped to his knees right in front of her, arms wrapping around her waist, pressing his face desperately against her still-flat stomach. “I’m sorry… I’m so fucking sorry. I’m sorry a thousand times. I’m sorry I was distant. I’m sorry I made you cry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”




















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