Paul sat up in bed, blinking sleepily as he breathed in the smell of food. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock, seeing that he had been asleep for several hours. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept so deeply, his body finally giving in to the exhaustion that had been building for days. "Ivy don't try to feed Polly chicken please, you can give her a chip and that's it, she doesn't have the teeth for chicken" Orla asked the six year old softly. Paul heard Orla's voice drifting up from downstairs, and he sat up a little straighter, straining to hear her words. Her voice was still a little raspy, but it was clear and strong compared to how she had been earlier that day.

He swung his legs out of bed and stood up, wincing at the stiffness in his muscles from the long period of rest. He padded over to the door, opening it a crack to listen more closely to the conversation downstairs. He heard the sound of shuffling steps and Ivy piping up, her childish voice full of excitement. "But I want to feed her!" "I know, sweetheart, but she doesn't have any teeth yet," Orla replied, her voice gentle but firm. "You can give her a chip, but nothing else, okay?" There was a pause, then Ivy's voice again, slightly disappointed but still curious. "Why doesn't she have any teeth yet?" She asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and confusion. Orla chuckled softly, the sound of her laugh like a warm comfort to Paul's ears.

"She's too little to have teeth yet," Orla explained patiently. "When you were born, you didn't have any teeth either, remember? You had to wait until you got a bit older before you grew any." There was a pause, and Paul could practically picture the expression on Ivy's face as she considered this information. Then she asked another question, her voice filled with innocence and wonder.

"When will she have teeth then? I want her to have teeth because I want to feed her chicken" She said, her voice a mixture of curiosity and impatience. Orla let out another soft laugh. "She'll have teeth soon enough," she reassured her daughter. "But she won't be eating any chicken for a while. She's too little for that kind of food." There was another pause, and Paul could almost see Ivy puffing out her cheeks in frustration.

"But how long is a while?" Ivy asked, her voice pleading. Paul could almost imagine the pout on her face, her small lips turned down in a frown as she tried to get the answers she wanted.

"A long time." Orla replied, a hint of amusement in her voice. "But you'll have to wait and see. For now, you just give her a chip, okay? And then eat your own dinner." There was another pause, then the sound of Ivy's voice again, this time quieter and a little defeated. "Okay..." She mumbled, her voice filled with resignation. Paul smiled to himself, imagining the resigned expression on his daughter's face as she obeyed her mother's instructions, albeit reluctantly.

There was a moment of silence, then the sound of footsteps and plates clattering as Ivy returned to her own dinner. Paul took the opportunity to step out of the room and quietly make his way down the stairs. He entered the kitchen, his eyes immediately finding Orla, sitting at the table, a plate of food in front of her that she was picking at. She looked up as he entered, a tired but warm smile spreading across her face as she saw him.

He smiled back at her, a wave of affection and relief washing over him at the sight of her. She looked much better than she had earlier, her face no longer pale and drawn, and her eyes bright and alert.

"We need to speak when my mother puts the girls to bed" She told him. Paul nodded, understanding immediately. He knew that 'we need to talk' was never a good thing, but considering the circumstances, he had expected it. There was a lot that they needed to talk about, and Paul knew that this conversation would be difficult, but necessary. He took a seat at the table across from Orla, his mind racing with thoughts and questions. He wanted to ask her a million things, but he knew that they needed to wait until the girls were tucked up in bed for the night. So instead, he just looked at her, watching her as she picked at her food, her expression a mixture of tiredness and determination.

She inched the plate she had made for him towards him, Paul couldn't help but smile at the gesture. Even now, after everything they had been through, Orla was still thinking about him, still trying to take care of him even though she was the one who needed all the care and attention. He reached out and took the plate, picking up a fork and starting to eat.

They ate in silence for a few moments, the only sound the clinking of cutlery against plates. Paul stole glances at Orla as he ate, his heart swelling with love and concern. She still looked tired, and he could still see the strain and the grief in her eyes, but she was holding up well, all things considered. He swallowed a mouthful of food, then spoke up, his voice soft and cautious.

"How are you feeling?" He asked gently, his eyes fixed on hers. He knew it was a stupid question, a question with an obvious answer. Of course she wasn't feeling good - she had just been through a miscarriage, for god's sake. But he wanted to hear her voice, wanted to know how she really was, beyond just physical pain.

Orla paused, her fork hovering over her plate. She took a deep breath before answering, her voice calm and steady. "I'm...I'm okay," she said simply. "The pain isn't too bad. A bit uncomfortable, but manageable." There was a hint of a forced cheerful note in her voice, an attempt at bravado that Paul saw right through.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression sceptical. He knew her too well to fall for that act. He could see the strain and the exhaustion in her eyes, the pain that she was trying to hide underneath that forced cheeriness. He put down his fork, his food forgotten as he leaned forward, his eyes fixed on hers.

"Orla.." he said, his voice gentle but firm. "Be honest with me. Don't try to put a brave face on it. How are you really feeling? Physically, emotionally, all of it. I need you to be honest with me." Orla let out a long breath, her shoulders slumping as she seemed to sag under the weight of his gaze. She knew she couldn't keep up the act, not with him. He knew her too well, could see right through her attempts to hide how she was really feeling.

"I..." she began, her voice cracking slightly. "I'm tired. And sore. And...and I just feel...empty. But I'll be okay. I just need some time, that's all." Her voice trailed off, her eyes drifting down to her food, her appetite gone.

Paul's heart ached as he heard the raw honesty in her voice. He knew how hard it was for her to admit that she was anything less than okay, how difficult it was for her to show vulnerability. But there was something refreshing about it too, something comforting about her willingness to let down her walls and be real with him. He reached across the table and took her hand in his, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on her palm.

"I know it's hard," he said gently. "But you don't have to put up a front with me. You don't have to pretend to be strong. You can be weak, and tired, and hurt. I'm here to carry the burden with you, remember?" He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, his eyes meeting hers, wanting her to understand that he meant every word he said.

"If you two are about to snog tell me so I can look away" Ivy said suddenly. Paul jerked back from Orla, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment as he heard his young daughter's voice. He'd been so focused on Orla, so lost in the moment, that he'd completely forgotten that the girls were still in the house. Orla let out a surprised laugh, her own cheeks flushing pink. She looked over at Ivy, who was sat a seat over from Paul  a cheeky grin on her face. "We're not going to snog," Orla assured her, stifling a giggle. "We were just...having a serious talk, that's all."

Paul chuckled awkwardly, his own face still burning. He hadn't expected to be caught out like that by his own daughter, and he couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed. He looked over at Ivy, who was still grinning at them, clearly thinking she was hilarious. "Were you eavesdropping on our conversation, young lady?" He asked, trying to sound stern but unable to keep a straight face. "Nope," Ivy replied, her eyes wide and innocence. "Just came to make sure you weren't snogging."

Paul couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head at his daughter's cheeky attitude. "That's no excuse," he said playfully. "You still shouldn't be listening in on grown-up conversations." He tried to sound authoritative, but the smile on his face betrayed his amusement. Ivy stuck out her tongue, clearly not intimidated by his attempts at a telling off. "But how am I supposed to know what you're planning if I don't eavesdrop?" She asked, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Paul chuckled again, shaking his head in defeat. He knew his daughter was too stubborn and too sassy to be put off by a simple telling off. "You're a little rascal, you know that?" He said, grinning at her. "You're like a little detective, trying to uncover all the family secrets.". Ivy beamed at the compliment, clearly pleased with herself. "I'm a good detective!" She declared, her voice full of pride.

"I always figure out what's going on, even when you don't want me to. You can't keep anything from me!"

"Oh really?" Paul asked, feigning disbelief. "You really think you can figure out everything, huh?" He leaned back in his chair, a playful glint in his eyes. "What do you think we were talking about just now, then?" Ivy's face scrunched up in concentration, her eyes flicking back and forth between Paul and Orla. She thought for a moment, her brain working overtime.

Then, finally, she spoke up, her voice filled with confidence. "You were talking about the baby."

Paul was taken aback by Ivy's response. He hadn't expected her to get it right on her first guess, and he had to admit that he was impressed by her intuition. He exchanged a look with Orla, who looked equally surprised. "Ivy we didn't tell you" She began, unsure how to tell Ivy that this baby she secretly knew about was never going to come.

Paul could see the conflict on Orla's face as she spoke, the struggle to find the right words to explain the situation to their daughter. He knew this would be difficult, and he reached out to take her hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze of support. Ivy's expression changed as she realized that something was up. She sensed that something was amiss from the way her parents were looking at each other, and her cocky confidence disappeared, replaced by curiosity and concern.

Paul took a deep breath, bracing himself for the conversation that was about to come. He knew this would be hard, but they needed to be honest and open with Ivy, to give her as much information as possible in a way that she would understand. He looked at Orla, waiting for her to speak. Orla hesitated for a moment, still struggling to find the right words. But she knew that they couldn't keep this from Ivy for much longer. She took Paul's hand, drawing strength from his touch, and spoke up in a calm and steady voice.

"Ivy, sweetheart," she began, her voice gentle but firm. "There's something we need to tell you. Something important." Beside her, Paul squeezed her hand again, silently encouraging her to go on. Ivy's eyes widened at the serious tone of Orla's voice, the curiosity on her face now mixed with a hint of fear. "What is it?" She asked, her voice small and hesitant. "What's wrong?"

Orla took another deep breath, trying to keep her emotions steady as she spoke. She knew that she needed to be clear and concise, to make sure Ivy understood the situation without making her feel more scared or confused.  "Do you remember how I told you last time, before Polly was born" She asked, her voice soft and kind. "That there was a little baby growing inside my belly?" Ivy nodded, her eyes wide and fixed on Orla. She clearly remembered that conversation, the excitement and curiosity on her face evident.

Orla smiled gently at her response, her heart breaking a little as she prepared to deliver the news. "Well, as you guessed, there was a new one, and that little baby...it grew for a little while, but..." She trailed off, her voice catching in her throat as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. Beside her, Paul reached over and took her hand, his own eyes filling with sadness as he watched his daughter's reaction.

"But what?" Ivy asked, her voice small and scared. She could sense the sadness and tension in the room, and her eyes flickered back and forth between her parents, waiting for someone to provide an explanation. Orla took another deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to say. "Sometimes, when a baby grows in a mammy's  belly, it doesn't grow properly, and it can't survive." There was a hint of a tremble in her voice as she spoke, the words tasting bitter in her mouth. Ivy frowned, her young brain struggling to comprehend what her mother was telling her. She looked at Orla with wide, confused eyes, her lower lip trembling as if she was about to burst into tears.

Paul couldn't bear to see his daughter looking so lost and confused. He shifted in his seat, reaching out to touch Ivy's shoulder, hoping to offer her some comfort. But he didn't know what to say, how to explain such a difficult concept to a child as young and empathetic as Ivy. Orla mustered up all her strength to keep herself together and continued speaking. "It's called a miscarriage," she said, her voice as gentle and calming as she could make it. "It happens sometimes, and it's nobody's fault."

Ivy's face crumpled at the words, her eyes filling with tears. She looked up at Orla, her bottom lip quivering as she struggled to process what she was hearing. "So...so the baby's gone?" She asked in a small, wavering voice. "That's why you were in hospital?" Orla nodded, her heart breaking at the sight of her daughter's anguish. "Yes, sweetheart," she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "The baby didn't grow very well, and it couldn't survive. That's why I had to go to the hospital." Ivy let out a soft, whimpering sound, the tears now streaming down her face. It was all starting to make sense to her now, and her young mind was struggling to comprehend the magnitude of what she was being told. "But why?" She asked between sniffles, her voice choked with sobs. "Why didn't it grow properly?"

Orla took another deep, shaky breath, trying to keep her own emotions in check as she responded. She had prepared herself for this question, but it didn't make it any easier to answer. "Sometimes, there isn't a clear reason," she said slowly. "It just happens, and there's nothing anyone can do to stop it." Ivy's sobs grew louder as she struggled to accept the unfairness of it all. She had been so excited about the idea of a new baby sibling, and now she was being told that it was gone, just like that. "It's not fair!" she protested, her voice rising in pitch.

Paul's heart ached as he listened to their daughter's heartbreak. He wanted nothing more than to take away her pain, to make it all better. But he knew that there was nothing he could say or do to fix this situation. Instead, he just reached out and pulled Ivy into a tight embrace, holding her close and letting her cry into his shoulder.

Orla watched as Paul comforted their daughter, her own heart breaking as she saw the raw pain on Ivy's face. She knew the pain of miscarriage all too well, but seeing it through the eyes of her young child was another kind of torture altogether. She couldn't help but feel guilty, as if she had failed her in some way, even though she knew that it was nobody's fault. As the moments ticked by, the room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the sound of Ivy's sobs and the occasional shaky breaths from Paul and Orla. They sat there, each lost in their own thoughts and emotions, the weight of the situation hanging heavily in the air.

Polly happily babbled away, unaware of the heavy atmosphere in the room. She was blissfully oblivious to the pain and grief that her family was experiencing, continuing to chatter and make noises as if everything was perfectly normal.

Orla watched her youngest daughter with a mixture of awe and sadness. She envied her innocence, her ability to stay cheerful and carefree in the midst of such turmoil. But at the same time, she was relieved that at least one person in the room didn't fully understand the gravity of the situation. Paul, too, was watching Polly, a nostalgic smile tugged at his lips despite the sadness he was feeling. He thought about how different things would have been if the miscarriage hadn't occurred, if they had been able to welcome a healthy new addition to their family. But he couldn't allow himself to dwell on the 'what if's.' It would only make the pain worse.

"Were gonna let you stay off school this week, and maybe take you to speak with a person who'll just listen to what you have to say" Orla told Ivy, Ivy looked up at Orla, her tear-streaked face a mixture of surprise and confusion. "A listening person?" she repeated, her voice still wobbly and shaky. "Daddy goes to one, I do sometimes too"

Ivy's eyes widened at this information. She looked at her parents with a mixture of fascination and skepticism. "You do?" she asked, her voice curious despite her recent tears. Orla nodded, a small smile on her face. "Yes, sweetheart," she said gently. "Sometimes, grown-ups need someone to talk to too, someone who can help them understand and process their feelings."

Ivy's expression softened as she absorbed this new information. She was still very young, but she was starting to realize that her parents, and adults in general, were not immune to sadness or pain. "Is it hard?" she asked, her voice small and hesitant.

Orla and Paul exchanged a look, their hearts breaking a little at the innocent question. "It can be hard," Paul admitted, his voice gentle. "Talking about difficult things can bring up a lot of emotions, but it's important to do it anyway so that we can process and heal." Ivy nodded slowly, her little mind trying to process this new concept. She was still struggling to wrap her head around the idea of a miscarriage and the pain it had caused her family, but she was starting to understand why her parents might need someone to talk to as well.

Paul reached out and ruffled Ivy's hair gently, a gesture of love and reassurance. "You don't have to worry about us," he assured her. "We know how to take care of ourselves. And we're here for you, no matter what, okay?" Ivy nodded again, her expression a little less troubled now that she understood a bit more about what was happening. She still looked sad, but there was a hint of acceptance in her eyes too, as if she was starting to come to terms with the reality of the situation."Do Nanny Dee and Bampi Paul know?

Orla's lip twitched in a sad smile at the question. She knew that telling the extended family about the miscarriage would be difficult. They would likely be upset and sorrowful, and she would have to go through the difficult process of explaining what had happened. But she also knew that they would be supportive and understanding, and would likely want to offer their own comfort and condolences. "Not yet, Nana knows cause she's here, and Bampi Rhys does too, and Auntie Nell but that's it" Ivy looked up at her mother, a hint of fear returning to her face. "Are they gonna be sad too?" she asked, her voice small and hesitant. She knew that her grandparents and aunt would likely react much the same way she and her father had, and the thought of upsetting her extended family added to her already heavy heart.

Orla's heart ached at her daughter's question. She wished she could shield her from all the pain and sadness, but she knew that was impossible. "Yes, sweetheart, they probably will," she said softly. "But it's not your fault, and they will still love you just the same." Ivy sniffed, wiping away a fresh trickle of tears as she processed this new information. She knew that her extended family loved her, but she still couldn't help but feel guilty at the thought of making them sad. "I don't want them to be sad," she said in a small voice. "I don't want anyone to be sad."

Orla's heart ached even more at her daughter's words. She wanted nothing more than to take away her pain and ease her guilt. "I know, sweetheart," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "But sometimes, we can't control how other people feel. All we can do is be kind and considerate towards them, and give them the space to feel whatever they need to feel."

Paul reached out and put his hand on Ivy's shoulder, offering her a comforting squeeze. He knew that the next few days, weeks, and months would be difficult for all of them, but he had faith in their ability to get through it together as a family.

"Me and Dad are going to tell some people when you're in bed" Ivy's eyes widened slightly as her mother spoke. She knew that her parents had to let the rest of the family know about the miscarriage, but the thought of them talking about it when she was asleep made her feel a little lonely and left out. Orla noticed the look on her daughter's face and hurried to explain further. "It's not that we don't want you here, sweetheart," she said gently. "It's just that we need to talk about some grown-up things when you're sleeping. But we'll be back before you know it." Paul nodded in agreement, adding his own reassurance.

Ivy's expression softened slightly at her parents' words. She knew that they weren't trying to exclude her, but it was hard not to feel a little left out. She couldn't help but feel that whatever they were going to talk about was more important than her, and that they preferred to talk about it when she wasn't around.

"We're gonna spend so much time on the phone you'd get bored" Ivy nodded, understanding her mother's point. She knew that talking on the phone could be boring, especially if it was adult conversation that she wouldn't really understand anyway.

Paul chuckled softly at Orla's comment. "And we'll probably be talking for hours," he added, a note of humour in his voice. "You don't want to be stuck listening to us ramble on." This elicited a small smile from Ivy. She could hear the lightheartedness in her father's voice, and it helped to ease some of her sadness. She nodded again in agreement, realizing that even if she wanted to, eavesdropping on their phone conversations would likely not be very interesting for her. Seeing her daughter's small smile, Orla felt a sense of relief wash over her. It was a small gesture, but it gave her hope that Ivy was starting to process her feelings and would be okay. She squeezed Ivy's hand gently, letting her know that she was there for her, no matter what.

Paul stood up from his seat and stretched, his back stiff from sitting for so long. He looked at the clock on the wall and realized that it was getting late. "It's probably almost bed time, isn't it, sweetheart?" he said, addressing Ivy.

"I'll message my mam" Orla began before the front door opened. The sound of the front door opening drew everyone's attention, and Paul, Orla, and Ivy all looked up to see who had arrived. Siobhan walked in "Only me, popped to the shop to get some essentials" Paul and Orla relaxed at the sight of Siobhan. They had both been bracing themselves for the difficult task of telling the extended family about the miscarriage, and the news that it was just Siobhan seemed to ease some of the tension in the room.

Siobhan looked at them, her expression full of concern as she took in the somber atmosphere. "Everything okay?"

"Ivy knows" Orla told her mother Siobhan's expression softened as she took in the information. She knew that it couldn't have been easy for Orla and Paul to explain the situation to their daughter, and she felt a pang of sympathy for them. She looked at Ivy, her heart going out to her as she noticed the sadness still lingering on her face. She walked over to Ivy and crouched down in front of her. "How do you feel, love?"

Ivy shrugged, her lower lip quivering slightly as she tried to keep her emotions in check. "It's sad," she said quietly, her voice small and wavering. "I don't want the baby to be gone." Siobhan nodded, her heart breaking for Ivy. She understood the pain of losing a baby, even if the baby hadn't been born yet. "I know, love," she said gently, her voice full of sympathy. "It's hard to understand why things like this happen. But your mam and dad are here for you, and so am I."

Ivy nodded, her eyes welling up with tears again at Siobhan's words. It was reassuring to know that she had her parents and grandmother by her side, but she still couldn't shake the feeling of sadness and loss that had taken hold of her since she found out about the miscarriage."Mam can you put her  and Polly to bed for us" Orla asked politely, ignoring the dull ache Siobhan nodded, understanding the request and why it had been made. "Sure thing, love," she said, standing up and grabbing Polly before gently guiding Ivy towards the stairs. "Let's go upstairs, sweetheart."

Ivy went along with her grandmother, her small hand clutching Siobhan's tightly as they made their way up the stairs and towards her bedroom. She glanced back at her parents, her expression a mix of sadness and tiredness.

Paul and Orla watched as Ivy and Siobhan disappeared upstairs. They could hear the murmurs of their voices and the sound of footsteps on the floorboards above them. Once they were sure that Ivy was safely tucked into bed, Paul turned to Orla.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his eyes full of concern. He knew that she was still battling her own emotions and pain, no matter how well she concealed it from Ivy.

Orla took a deep shaky breath, the exhaustion of the day seeping into her bones. She felt like she had spent the last several hours holding herself together, putting on a brave face for Ivy. But now that they were alone, the mask of strength was starting to falter. "No," she admitted, her voice small and wavering. "Not really."

Paul's heart ached at her confession. He knew that she had been struggling, but hearing her admit it out loud was like a punch to the gut. "Come here," he said, opening his arms for her.

Orla stepped into his embrace, leaning her head on his shoulder and allowing herself to relax into him. She closed her eyes, feeling the safe, comforting warmth of his arms around her. She let out a small sob, the emotions that she had been trying to suppress all day finally breaking through. "I need more painkillers" She cried

Paul held her closer, feeling her shake slightly in his arms. He had been expecting this, knowing that she was still in pain from the miscarriage. But hearing her say it out loud filled him with a mix of sadness and helplessness. "Okay," he said gently. "I'll get you some." "Thank you"  She mumbled.

Paul gave her a small squeeze, his heart aching for her. He didn't want to let her go, but he knew that he needed to get her some painkillers to alleviate her pain. Reluctantly, he untangled himself from her and moved over to the medicine cabinet.

"We need to send out a message to our friends, and then ring family and let them know, My dad said he told Liv, so we just need to tell your parents and Donnacha" Paul noticed the neglect of her 'brothers'.

Paul nodded as he opened the medicine cabinet and began to look for the painkillers. He listened as Orla listed off the people who needed to be told about the miscarriage. He couldn't blame her for neglecting to mention her 'brothers'. He knew that her relationship with them was strained at best, and he didn't want to bring them up and cause her any more emotional pain.

"I don't know if I should tell Tina to let her let Scarlett know" She said, referring to her eldest brother's ex girlfriend and the mother of her niece, who technically now had no biological relation to her at all, the entire thing was still a mindfuck to her. Paul closed the medicine cabinet and turned back to Orla, a bottle of painkillers in his hand. He walked over to her and handed her the bottle, watching as she shook out a couple of capsules into her hand.

He nodded in acknowledgement of her question, knowing that it was a complicated situation. But he also knew that she was in no state to make decisions right now, and that he needed to be the one to think clearly. "I think it's best to just focus on the immediate family for now," he said softly. "We can worry about other people later."

"Do you wanna start with your mam and dad?" Paul nodded. He knew that informing his parents about the miscarriage was going to be difficult, and he wasn't looking forward to the conversation. But he also knew that it had to be done, and that putting it off wouldn't make it any easier.

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea," he said. "I'll go into the other room and call them now. Are you going to be okay in here for a bit?"  "I can be on the phone too if you want" She offered. Paul gave her a small smile, appreciating her offer but shaking his head. "I think it's best if I talk to them alone," he said. "I need to be the one to explain everything. Besides, I don't want you to have to go through the whole story again right now."

"Thank you" She said gratefully "Of course," he said softly. "Take the painkillers and try to rest. I'll be back as soon as I can." Paul gave her one last sympathetic look before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.

He walked to the other room, steeling himself for the conversation he was about to have with his parents. He felt a sense of dread and sadness, knowing that they would be just as upset and distraught as he and Orla were. He took a deep breath and picked up the phone, dialing his parents' number with slightly trembling hands. The phone rang once, then twice, and then his mother's voice filled the line.

"Hello?" His mother's voice was laced with confusion and curiosity, obviously wondering why he was calling them at this hour.

"Hi Mam," Paul said, his voice a little hoarse with emotion. He took another deep breath, trying to steady himself. His mother's tone shifted immediately from confusion to concern. "Paul? Is everything alright, love?" She asked, picking up on the heaviness in his voice.

Paul swallowed hard, the words stuck in his throat. He had rehearsed what he was going to say in his head, but now that the moment had come, it was harder than he expected.

"No, Mam, it's not," he managed to say, his voice shaking. His mother's concern deepened.* "What's going on, love? You're scaring me." There was a hint of fear in her voice, her mind surely racing with worst-case scenarios. Paul took another deep breath, the words finally coming out in a rush.

"Mam, I... We... Orla and I..." He trailed off, the words catching in his throat again. His mother's voice was filled with worried impatience now. "Paul, love, just tell me. What's going on? Are you and Orla alright?"

"We..." Paul closed his eyes, the pain and sadness he was feeling welling up inside him. He took another breath, forcing out the words. "We lost the baby, Mam. We had a miscarriage." There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end of the line as his mother processed his words. Then, he heard a small, shaky gasp.

"Oh, love..." His mother's voice was thick with emotion, the pain and sorrow in her voice palpable even over the phone.

Paul's eyes filled with tears at the sound of his mother's voice. He could feel her pain and sadness, even through the phone, and it tugged at his heart. He wanted to reach out and comfort her, but he couldn't.

"I'm sorry, Mam," he whispered, his own voice choked with emotion. His mother let out a small sob, her voice cracking as she spoke."No, love, don't be sorry. It's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault. It's just... oh, god..." She trailed off, her voice thick with tears.

Paul's own tears were falling now, his heart breaking at the sound of his mother's sobbing. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her it would be okay, but he couldn't find the words.

"I know, Mam," he managed to say, his voice still rough with emotion. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." His mother took a shaky breath, trying to compose herself.

"Is... is Orla okay, love? How's she taking it?" She asked, concerned for her daughter-in-law. Paul nodded, even though he knew she couldn't see him. "She's... she's okay," he said, not wanting to worry his mother more than necessary.

He glanced towards the other room, where he knew Orla was waiting. "She's just... it's been hard, Mam. For both of us." *His mother made a small, sympathetic sound.

"Of course it has, love. Of course it has. I'm so sorry... I don't know what to say..." She was at a loss for words, the emotion of the situation too overwhelming for her to find the right thing to say. She realised that her husband was in the room and clueless.

Paul heard his father's voice in the background, asking who it was and why they were on the phone. He knew that his mother would have to tell his father what had happened, and the thought made his heart ache all over again. He closed his eyes, trying to steady his emotions.

"It's okay, Mam," he said softly. "You don't have to say anything. I just... I thought you should know." His mother nodded, her voice still quivering.

"Thank you for calling us, love. And please... please know that we're here for you and Orla. We love you both so much, and we're here for you, no matter what."

"What's gone on you're worrying me" Paul's dad said, Paul felt a wave of comfort at his mother's words. Hearing her reassurance and love meant the world to him, even in this difficult time. He took another deep breath, preparing himself for the next part of the conversation.

"Dad," he said, addressing his father directly. "It's Orla. She... we..." He struggled to get the words out again, the reality of the situation almost too much to bear. His father's voice carried an edge of concern.

"Paul, what is it? What's happened?" He could hear the worry in his father's voice, knowing that he was sensing the seriousness of the situation. Paul's mother decided to say it for him. She cleared her throat, trying to steady her voice. "It's Orla, love," she said, taking a deep breath. "They... they lost the baby." There was a moment of silence, the weight of her words hanging in the air.

Paul could hear his father gasp, the news obviously hitting him just as hard as it had hit his mother. His father's voice was thick with emotion as he spoke.

"Christ, that's... that's awful. Is she... is she okay? Are you okay?" Paul nodded again, not trusting himself to talk without breaking down. He glanced towards the other room, where he knew Orla was still waiting.

"Yeah, we're... we're dealing with it," he finally managed to say. "It's just... it's hard." His father made a sympathetic sound.

"I can only imagine, son. That's... I can't even begin to say how sorry I am." There was a moment of silence as his father tried to process the situation.

"Is there... is there anything we can do? Anything you need?" He asked, wanting to offer his help in any way he could. He knew they were in completely different countries, but still, he wanted to offer his support.

Paul felt a surge of gratitude at his father's offer, but he knew there was nothing they could do from so far away. "Thank you, Dad," he said softly. "But we'll be okay. We just... we just needed to tell you what happened."

His mother piped up then, her voice thick with emotion. "Please don't hesitate to call us if you need anything, love. Anything at all. We're here for you."

Paul felt a lump form in his throat at his mother's words. "I know, Mam," he said. "Thank you. Both of you. We... we appreciate it more than you know."

There was a moment of silence as they all absorbed the weight of the conversation. Then, his mother spoke up again. "We'll let you go, love. But you take care, okay? And give our love to Orla."

"I will, Mam," Paul said, his voice cracking with emotion again. He knew he had to end the call soon, as the conversation was becoming increasingly painful. "I'll talk to you soon. I love you."

His mother made a small, strangled sound.* "I love you too, love. Take care." His father added his own sentiment. "Take care, son. And give my love to Orla."

"I will, Dad. I will," Paul said, his voice wavering. "Bye."

He waited for his parents' goodbyes before hanging up the phone, his hand trembling slightly. He leaned back against the wall, feeling emotionally and physically exhausted.

He took a moment to collect himself, taking some deep breaths to calm his racing heart. Then, with a heavy heart, he pushed himself off the wall and walked back to the other room where he knew Orla was waiting.

"Are you alright?" She questioned, seeing his tear stained face, Paul nodded, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands. "Yeah," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "Yeah, I'm alright." He walked over to her, taking her hand in his and squeezing it gently.*

"Do you want to leave it there for tonight?" *She asked softly* *Paul nodded again, feeling a wave of exhaustion washing over him. "Yeah, I think so," he agreed. "I'm wiped out." He sank down onto the couch next to her, his shoulders sagging with fatigue.

She rests her head on his shoulder "I keep thinking about what it would've been" Paul wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. "I know," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I keep thinking about all the things we'll never get to do... the first smile, the first step, the first word..." He trailed off, his heart aching at the thought.

"What do you imagine it being? A boy or a girl?" She asked, Paul thought for a moment, picturing the baby in his mind. "I think it would've been a boy," he answered. "With your eyes and my nose." He tried to keep his voice light, but his heart was heavy with grief.

"I keep imagining him playing gaelic football, arguing with Ivy over stupid stuff" She said with a soft chuckle envisioning it. Paul smiled sadly, imagining the same thing she described. "Yeah, he would have been a little troublemaker for sure," he said, picturing a mini version of himself in a little football jersey, driving Ivy crazy. "He and Polly would've been as thick as thieves" She said.

Paul chuckled at the thought. "Oh, they would've been partners in crime, no doubt about that." He could imagine their little boy and Polly running around, causing mischief and keeping everyone on their toes. "We would've spoiled him rotten," He said, imagining their child growing up loved and cherished. "We would've given him everything he wanted." He knew it was a foolish thought, but he couldn't help imagining the life they could've had with their son.

"Do you think we should name him, I know he didn't grow enough for us to even tell but, online people say it works, maybe it would help" She said.

Paul was quiet for a moment, considering her suggestion. The idea of naming their child felt both comforting and heartbreaking at the same time. He nodded slowly. "Yeah, I think that would be nice," he said quietly. "Do you... do you have a name in mind?"  She shook her head softly.

Paul thought for a moment, his mind conjuring up names that they had discussed before. "What about Teddy?" He suggested, remembering that they had both liked the name when they were discussing it. She nodded, He squeezed her hand gently.

"Okay, then Teddy it is," he said softly. "Teddy." He repeated the name, trying to get used to saying it. It sounded both bittersweet and perfect at the same time.

He looked down at her, studying her face. It was as if saying the name made the reality of their loss hit them even harder. "It's a good name," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Teddy."

They sat in silence for a moment, both lost in their thoughts. The room was quiet except for the sound of their breathing. Paul's mind was swirling with images of what could've been, and his heart was weighed down with sadness and longing. He pulled her closer to him, finding comfort in her presence.

He glanced at her, noticing the tears on her cheeks. He reached up and wiped them away gently. "Hey," he said softly, his voice filled with tenderness. "We'll be okay, yeah? We'll get through this." He wanted to reassure her, even though he wasn't entirely sure he believed his own words. She looked up at him, her eyes red and full of sadness. She nodded, trying to believe it just as much as he was. "Yeah," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "We'll be okay."

GWEN TALKS
i love them sm i feel sick actually