You have a place in my heart no one else could have.

~F. Scott Fitzgerald~

Mia

I opened my eyes to a dark room. I wasn't sure how long I had been asleep; it could have been hours or a day, but I hoped it hadn't been longer than that. That would have been devastating to Romano.

I moved my trembling right hand to his side of the bed slowly, so slow it took more than a minute to find it empty.

A wave of disappointment washed over me, bringing with it loneliness that I hadn't felt since I found him. I laid there for a few minutes, contemplating what to do next; I needed to use the bathroom, and I didn't know how to call for help, neither was I strong enough for much.

I opened my mouth, testing my voice by clearing my throat, yet no sound came out.

I did this for a few minutes until I started finding the darkness intimidating. Every horror story I've ever heard of involved the dark; even Silvio's doctor aborted my baby at night. Darkness, sin, and crime were synonymous in my book.

If I weren't sure nobody could get into this room unauthorized, I would have been afraid, but at least I wasn't worried about that. I knew without asking that anyone within two feet of me has been vetted. But I still felt as if the darkness was an ogre waiting and binding. It's time to swallow me whole.

"Rom," I mouthed; no sound came out.

I didn't know what to do. I started to lift my upper body, but I couldn't move it; my legs felt so shaky as if I had spent more than a day walking runways in seven inches heels.

I felt so useless and helpless. I hated feeling those two emotions. They invoked memories from my childhood, and now they seemed to merge with the adult version of me, making me feel like a loser.

"Rom, " I called again, this time I made a sound, an almost inaudible, but I heard it pass through my lips. I didn't care about the scratch on my throat as long as I got to make it out.

"Bella Mia, " he called, sounding skeptical like he thought he had imagined my voice. There were a thousand reasons why I loved Romano, but hearing him respond to my feeble voice would forever remain one of my favorites.

I heard him jump off from somewhere, and then he switched on the lights. I felt the impact of the sudden brightness even though my eyes were closed.

"Did you call?"

"Are you awake?"

He sounded both worried and somewhat excited. His voice had a steady pitch. I moved my head in a nod or one that I thought could be considered a nod.

"Open your eyes, Bella Mia." Although I was wary of the lights, I started to open my eyes slowly; eyelashes fluttered a little, but I managed to open them eventually, albeit barely.

" That's my girl," the full smile on his face gave me not only confidence but a great deal of accomplishment. It made me feel as if I had climbed up to the top of Mount Everest.

We managed to communicate my need to use the bathroom. I never thought there would ever be a time when I was so helpless to need help cleaning myself up.

It was embarrassing. I was so mortified I started crying softly, my face slightly bowed in shame, then I started wailing, sobbing loudly, and I wasn't sure whether it was because Rom was bathing me or because of my state of mind.

Time seemed to stop, so did Rom's hands. I cried until my throat started hurting, yet I didn't know how to stop. I felt as if the world was mocking me, sneering and watching with a triumphant smirk.

I felt broken. And the worst part was that I really was broken.

I would never be the same again. As long as I live, I would know that I was to be a mother. That there had been a child in my womb, made in love and immeasurable passion.

I cried for what should have been, for a past I couldn't change, and a future I wasn't sure about.

I was happy that Rom crouched down behind me; it gave me a sense of privacy, his silence a gift that I didn't know I needed. He let me cry without trying to make me stop or calm me. He might not fully understand how I felt, but I think he sensed it, then I remembered he once told me I could cry if I wanted as long as I didn't hide it from him, and he would pull me into his arms, put my head on his chest until I stopped.

It felt right to cry.

I don't know long I cried; my heartfelt lighter than it had before Romano slipped me down the bathtub.

We sat in silence for another couple of minutes, our breathing and water droplets the only sound in the room.

"I have shared a bath with you countless times, Bella Mia," he said, breaking the silence with the safest subject to address, his warm breath on my ear.

Crying had given me back my voice somehow. Although I did not qualify his statement with a response, I figure he was right but also wrong. When we shared a bath in the past, we wanted to have sex, not to mention I washed my body even though he scrubbed my back.

The premise this time was different. I was at his mercy, entirely dependant on him, yet I would rather be with him in such a situation than anyone else in the world, and that included my mother.

He washed every part as if it wasn't his first time, and maybe it wasn't, then he wrapped a huge towel around me, scooping me up and sitting me on one side of the white countertop to dry my hair.

He did it without saying a word until he finished.

"You're still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

Romano.

Hearing Mia crying broke my heart, but according to the book Raph gave me about trauma, mourning, and dealing with miscarriage, it was good.

I felt like I was in a foreign land without a sense of direction, lost, and somehow unable to figure out what to do about it.

Her hair had become longer in those few weeks, I thought as I dried it with a towel first and then with the blow dryer hooked on her right. I found I loved doing this for her, she hated the helplessness, which triggered the bout of tears, but I didn't mind. However, I understood how she felt; I imagined I would feel the same if the roles were reversed.

"You're still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, " I told her. She blushed, averting her puffy eyes. I smiled, kissing her forehead, a thrill of excitement coursing through me at having her back.

"I've waited almost a week to have you back, " I whispered, my mouth just inches from her nose, eyes moving across her face as if she was the most important thing in my life.

" I never want to come that close to losing you ever again," I told her, running the back of my hand across her cheek. She didn't look away from me. Instead, she had an uncertain look about her, like she was trying to understand something she couldn't.

"Ask me whatever you want to know, tell me whatever you want to say to me." I wanted to kiss her, but I wasn't sure how she would feel about it.

This was another territory for me. It was as if I was dancing at the edge of a precipice where I could fall over if I made any wrong move.

I wanted to know exactly how to approach her. Know everything about her, including her thoughts, but I was only human. I could only wait to hear what she chose to tell me.

I stood between her legs for quite a while, my hands resting on both her side, our image on the mirror. My hair was messy, with a face marred with worry and uncertainty, and the back of Mia looked enticing.

" Let's find you some clothes to wear," I lifted her off the counter, the weight of her almost like that of a baby. None of us spoke of what happened; I figured she would tell me when she was ready, just like the psychologist had said. But if she didn't, then it would fall on me to speak up first.

She scoffed at the black hospital gown I dressed her in, and that made me smile. My girl was in there somewhere; feisty and fun all she needed was time to figure out how to live with the scars.

It was still dark; most of the world was asleep, but Mia and I were awake.

"let me find you some porridge, " I said, leaving the room yet not before gently touching her cheek, moving my hand to feel every angle of her face like I was trying to memorize it.

Life was more comfortable with money, I thought, sending one of Mia's nurses to the kitchen for porridge as if I was ordering room service.

I knew they talked about me behind closed doors. I could tell by how each of them scurried for cover as if I was the devil himself when they saw me coming and only interacted with me when treating Mia.

A few minutes later, the nurse entered, holding a small lunch plate and a small flask.

"What's the other thing?" I asked, pointing her to the table in the room.

"Chicken soup," she responded, stealing glances at Mia. I understood her curiosity; the only people privy to Mia's case were the two doctors treating her. I had to tell them part of it, not everything, just enough to diagnose her.

"Do you want the soup or the porridge?" I asked in a low husky voice, gazing at her beautiful face, waiting for her answer, hoping for one even when I knew none would be forthcoming.

"Porridge it is, " I saw a flicker of relief when I said that. " I guess you don't want soup, " I chuckled, feeding her the first spoonful, " It's not bad, is it?" she licked her lips at the question.

" I missed you. Did I tell you that?" She turned her face towards mine, then moved her gaze around the room as if she was looking for something specific, or maybe she just wanted to avoid my stare.

I fed her while I spoke, not caring that she didn't say anything back. For a man who hated unnecessary chatter, this was a surprise to me.

She finished the whole bowl, and that filled me with pride. With her hair combed down, her face without makeup, her fingers entwined on her lap, she looked young and fragile.

I placed the bowl back on top of the table, then sat back across Mia. I leaned over the wheelchair she sat on, my face turned up towards her, searching for any sign whatsoever of what was in her mind.

"I use to read your mind accurately once, " I told her in a voice filled with desperation, pulling one of her hands in mine. It was warm, soft, weak, and small; it disappeared in my large one—it also felt fragile, like it would break if I held it tighter.

"There are a million things I want to tell you, and to be honest, I would like you to tell me a million too." dawn had started to break, I could hear voices coming out from some parts of the building. I saw a tremor run through her body, eyes misting as if she wanted to cry; she wasn't ready to talk.

"Please don't cry. I won't rush you. I just want you to know I will always be there whenever you need me. But I also think you need professional help, Bella Mia." I said, lifting her chin so she could look at me.

I stared at her beautiful eyes, remembering how they looked when she laughed, smiled, and when she came apart in my arms.

"I have a dozen memories of you in me that will last more than a lifetime." I caressed her chin, palming one side of her face. I leaned over to kiss the tip of her nose.

"Te Amo, Bella Mia," I whispered, placing my face on the other side of hers.