"How is she, Jonas?" Sigrid asked.

"She doesn't want to see anybody for the moment."

Thirty minutes earlier.

"Your wife suffered from cervical insufficiency. Usually, the ultrasound checkup in the first trimester or a cervical exam in the second or third allows us to detect this."

"We did an ultrasound check on the eighth, maybe the tenth week. The doctor didn't see andㅡ," Jonas swiped a hand on his forehead, the irony of the situation was beyond him, "we had a checkup yesterday."

Jonas was livid; he couldn't comprehend how the doctor missed it.

At that instant, Jonas, desperate to find the culprit, got served while Sierra mentally hung herself. She had two responsibilities, which consisted of carrying their child and giving birth to a healthy baby.

Jonas didn't need to seek who had done it. She did, her doubts and fears; the baby must have felt it. Sierra's arms weren't wide enough to welcome him, so he left.

Not at one instant did she blame someone or something else.

It was her.

"It's negligence."

"No, Mr. Potsmann, I assure you. It isn't always easy to spot sometimes. We can stitch the cervix through surgery when caught early, but again one has to see it. Environment, lifestyle, and mental health, there are many factors and circumstances we can add. A woman with known cervical issues is advised not to do too many psychical activities; she also has to have a calm and peaceful environment. Stress can sometimes accelerate things. Again these are all subjective reasons.

Jonas thought of when Sierra rode her bike and how he told Sierra about the Gauthiers. 

The man regretted speaking of  his past relationship with Rut.

There was also the incident with the police; she probably didn't know it was too much for her.

The man had his answer; he was the culprit.

Jonas shouldn't have told her. He should have privileged driving Sierra to places instead of letting her ride her bike. The man was careless; he let the Gauthiers nibble his time as he tried to find solutions when he should have been at home with her.

Sierra was in a foreign land without friends and a new family. Of course, this impacted her mentally. She never complained, but how did the woman feel during all this time?

At that moment, Sierra wished for her and everything around her to vanish. The woman closed her eyes to sleep. She and her husband exchanged no words.

Jonas left the room to call his parents. Now they were taking Leone.

"I'll come and get him tomorrow."

"There's no need, Jonas. Take your time."

Sigrid saw it, the void in Jonas's stare. The man didn't express himself with words, but she knew he died within. Her children had never known suffering, unfortunate mishaps, but not the cruel affliction that leaves an open wound that never heals.

Cecile's death was the first for Jonas, but Sierra came and plastered it with love. All that was left was a scar.

What would it be of this loss that affected husband and wife so profoundly?

How and who would heal who?

"Jonas, speak to her. Don't let Sierra go through this alone."

The man nodded and handed Leone to his father.

Left alone, he returned to Sierra's room and sat in the chair placed in its corner. He dared not approach the bed.

Sierra wasn't asleep. Her eyes roamed under her eyelids until the sun's rays entered the bedroom. There, she opened them; she was still in the hospital, and the nightmare was absolute.

Jonas got up and came to her side; he didn't know what to say. He had the answers to all the questions he could ask.

Inquiring to see whether she was okay almost seemed an insult.

"Eh," he cleared his throat, "hi."

Even saying good morning didn't make sense in the context. It was the worst day of their life.

Sierra turned her stare away. Jonas guessed she didn't want to see him. She, too, saw him as the culprit.

The man could not be more wrong. Sierra couldn't bear to stare into his blue and honest eyes. Jonas never betrayed his feelings. He wished for the baby when she came to think her pregnancy was due to mindless behavior.

Sierra couldn't face him. She betrayed the man and lost the child he so desired to have. The guilt was too heavy.

"Eh, I'll go home and get you some clothes. I'll be back in a bit."

The strangling tension in the room was too suffocating for the man to stay.

For the first time, the couple was more than happy to be apart.

Sierra closed her eyes, desperately trying to escape.

Jonas went home; his hands trembled as he entered his keys in the keyhole of his apartment's door. Everything looked fine in the living room, but the hall leading to the bedrooms was a Carrie remake.

He couldn't bring Sierra back to this. The man began to clean. He attacked the dried blood puddles. Jonas discovered how tenuous bloodstains were as he scrubbed.

The worst was still to come; the bathroom was a true crime scene.

Jonas picked up the two towels, once white, now bloody red, and threw them in the bin. He proceeded to unclog the toilets full of blood and an excess amount of soaked paper.

Finally came the bathtub; one look within it was enoughㅡJonas sunk to the floor to sit back against the tub.

How many hours did Sierra deal with it on her own?

Why didn't she call him?

The tears Jonas held back streamed down in a never-ending procession. There was no word to describe the pain.

No, Sierra was not carved out of marble, and he was not made of steel. Both in their respective settings cried tears of regret and guilt. Tears of mourning waited for their turn in the long line not scheduled to finish within the day.

The man got up half an hour later to finish what he had started. Jonas changed the bedspreads and whatever else needed adjusting and made a call.

"Hello, Ulrich."

"Is everything okay, Jonas?"

The man didn't ask if his brother was aware. His parents already told his siblings to prevent Jonas from living the ordeal of announcing it himself. Many would see it as a breach of their private life, but Jonas found relief in not having to pronounce the word miscarriage to every interlocutor.

"I won't be coming back to work for a while."

"I understand."

"Can you replace me?"

"Jonas, you know how Lars is."

Lars estimated he was the second in command after Jonas. In reality, Jonas gave him responsibilities as he was the only one who worked full time. The others were shareholders, but it wasn't rare to have one step in to support.

There Jonas needed someone who didn't fuel on emotions.

"I'll speak to him," Jonas assured.

"Okay, then I'll do it."

"Thank you, Ulrich."

"Jonas, how is she?"

"I don't know."  

A short silence followed before Ulrich picked up, "listen, Jonas, I know I'm not the cool, friendly older brother like Joshua, but I'm here if you want to talk. Okay."

"Thank you, Ulrich."

Jonas went to the second shower room to wash up. He didn't see himself entering the other one, at least not then.

He drove back to the hospital and found the doctor explaining to Sierra what she could expect in the following days and weeks.

"The bleeding won't stop for the next two weeks. It won't be heavy as what you experienced last night. It should be closer to your periods in terms of flux. You might still experience cramping."

Jonas just stood behind the doctor, he tried to listen, but all was a blur. All he saw was Sierra, who barely acknowledged what the doctor said though he spoke in English. Thankfully most Swedish spoke English at a professional level. This factor helped Sierra when she called the emergency number that had a choice of language.

"You'll be free to live in an hour," the doctor left the room, and Jonas followed.

"Excuse me, is that it?"

"Yes," the doctor replied.

"My wife, ㅡshe'sㅡ," Jonas was lost for words, "is this all the treatment you give?"

If there were a part of his job the doctor could cancel, it would be dealing with the grieving, angry partners.

"Mr. Potsmann, we treat the physical. If your wife needs psychological support, you have a service on the third floor, or you can ask the welcome desk for addresses."

Jonas couldn't believe it, the doctor came off cold, but it was his way of making Jonas understand that what was done was done and that his wife would not have more attention than the other women who suffered similar losses that night.

The doctor, even though they were lucky. He found the predicament of still-born births and sudden infant death far worse.

"I know Mr. Potsmann. It's the worst thing, and I'm sorry for your loss. My role ends here. What you need is time. Give yourselves the time to heal.