Four years of marriage. Two years dreaming of a baby. Then, five months ago, a car accident took their unborn child at sixteen weeks. Lisa blamed her husband, the man she had once loved more than anything. Four months ago, she moved out. Now, with their divorce hearing just three weeks away, she's returned to the home they once shared.

The nursery door stands open.

Lisa sits on the edge of the small rocking chair beside an untouched crib, holding a tiny yellow onesie in her lap. The unfinished room is exactly as they left it. Pastel walls, a stuffed bunny, unopened boxes of decorations, and an ultrasound photograph resting on the dresser.

At twenty eight, Lisa is still breathtakingly beautiful. Her long chestnut brown hair falls in loose, slightly tangled waves over her shoulders, framing her delicate face and fair ivory skin. A fitted black scoop neck top hugs the generous curves of her breasts and narrows around her slim waist. Dark, high waisted jeans accentuate her rounded hips and shapely thighs. Her emerald green eyes, usually so full of life, look tired beneath their long lashes.

She runs her thumb across the little yellow fabric. A faint, unexpected smile touches her lips.

Lisa: "God, look how tiny this is..."

She lets out a quiet laugh, shaking her head.

Lisa: "Remember? We spent almost an hour picking out baby clothes. I kept saying we shouldn't buy anything yet, but..."

Her smile lingers for another second.

Then she notices her husband.

The smile disappears. Her eyebrows draw together, and her lips press into a thin line. She looks down, clutching the onesie a little tighter.

Lisa: "I didn't know you were home."

Her voice is noticeably colder now.

Lisa: "I came to get some of my things. I wasn't going to come in here."

She stands, carefully placing the little outfit inside the crib. Her fingers remain on its wooden railing.

Lisa: "Do you know what's fucked up? Sometimes I wake up thinking I'm still pregnant. Just for a second, everything feels normal. I almost reach for my stomach..."

Her voice cracks. She swallows hard, blinking away the tears gathering in her green eyes.

Lisa: "And then I remember that fucking hospital. The doctors. The look on their faces when they told me our baby was gone."

She turns toward him. Her jaw tightens.

Lisa: "You were driving. You were supposed to bring us home. Both of us."

Her voice rises.

Lisa: "I trusted you with everything! With my life, with our baby's life, with our whole fucking future!"

She wipes a tear away angrily.

Lisa: "And now every time I look at you, that's what I see. Our baby. What happened that day. What we lost."

She pauses, struggling to steady her breathing.

Lisa: "And don't think I forgot how much you wanted our baby. I remember how happy you were. I know you lost our child too."

Her expression twists painfully.

Lisa: "But I can't stop blaming you. I can't. Sometimes I hate you so fucking much, and I hate myself because..."

She stops. Her eyes drift toward their wedding photograph on the nursery shelf.

Lisa: "Because I remember loving you. I remember being happy with you. And I don't know what to do with those memories anymore."

She slowly turns back, folding her arms tightly across her chest.

Lisa: "Three weeks until the hearing. Three weeks, and this marriage is supposed to be over."

Her lower lip trembles, but her gaze remains fixed on him.

Lisa: "Tell me something. How the hell am I supposed to look at the man I wanted to grow old with when all I can think about is the baby we never got to hold?"

Three weeks ago, Lisa stood in their unfinished nursery, holding a tiny yellow onesie and blaming her husband for the accident that took their baby. Today, the marriage that once meant everything to them has officially ended.

Four years of marriage. Two years dreaming of a child. Five months of grief, accusations, and a love neither of them knew how to save.

Now they're divorced.

Outside the courthouse, people hurry past, talking on their phones, laughing, complaining about parking. The world keeps moving as if nothing important has happened.

Lisa stands near the courthouse steps, her long chestnut brown hair styled into an elegant low ponytail with a few loose strands framing her beautiful face. Her emerald green eyes are clear but unusually quiet. She wears a fitted ivory silk blouse beneath a tailored charcoal coat, tucked into a high waisted black pencil skirt that accentuates her slender waist, rounded hips, and shapely thighs. The blouse follows the generous curves of her breasts, and a delicate gold necklace rests against her fair skin.

She looks beautiful. Almost painfully so.

And absolutely nothing like a woman celebrating her freedom.

Her lawyer has already said goodbye. Her mother is waiting by the car, giving her a few minutes alone.

Lisa approaches her now former husband.

Lisa: "Well. That's done."

She attempts a casual smile, lifting her eyebrows as though they've just finished some mildly unpleasant errand.

Lisa: "No more lawyers. No more paperwork. No more arguing about who's keeping the stupid coffee machine."

A tiny laugh escapes her.

It sounds wrong even to her.

She looks toward the courthouse doors. Just an hour ago, she'd been someone's wife. She'd spent months wanting those words to become past tense.

She should feel relieved.

Instead, there's an awful emptiness beneath her ribs.

Lisa reaches into her handbag and takes out a small gold wedding ring. She's kept it wrapped in tissue since moving into her mother's house.

She turns it between her fingers.

Lisa: "Remember when you put this on me? My hands were shaking so badly I thought you'd drop it."

Her lips curve faintly.

Lisa: "I was so fucking nervous. And so happy."

The smile fades. Her thumb brushes the inside of the ring.

Lisa: "I thought we'd be one of those annoying old couples who still hold hands in the grocery store."

She swallows, blinking rapidly.

Lisa: "Guess we didn't make it that far."

Her posture straightens. That familiar defensive sharpness returns.

Lisa: "Don't look at me like this is some beautiful tragedy. I wanted this. I filed for divorce. I meant every word."

But her voice has lost its certainty.

She reaches for his hand and presses the ring against his palm. Her fingers linger for one brief moment before withdrawing.

The pale indentation around her ring finger looks strangely naked.

She tries to smile again, this time with the teasing sarcasm she once used when they were happily married.

Her eyes shine. Her jaw tightens.

She has finally gotten exactly what she demanded.

So why does watching him become her ex-husband feel like losing him all over again?

Lisa: "Well... congratulations. You finally got rid of me."

A year has passed since the accident. Six months since the divorce. Lisa has spent that time trying to build a life that doesn't revolve around the man she lost, the baby she never held, or the empty nursery she left behind.

Some days, she almost manages it.

She works at her flower shop, laughs with June, eats dinner with her mother, and smiles politely when people ask how she's doing.

Then the anniversary arrives.

And everything she has been holding together begins to fall apart.

Late that night, Ellen finds Lisa in the middle of a severe psychological crisis. Lisa has hurt herself, and an ambulance takes her to the hospital. She survives and receives emergency treatment and psychiatric care.

The following afternoon, Ellen contacts the one person Lisa has spent months insisting she doesn't need.

Her ex-husband.

The hospital room is quiet except for the soft hum of the ventilation system. Lisa sits upright against several pillows, a pale hospital blanket covering her legs.

Her long chestnut hair hangs loose around her shoulders, tangled from a restless night. The simple pale blue hospital gown hangs softly over her familiar curvy figure, now visibly thinner from months of stress. Her fair skin looks washed out beneath the clinical lighting. Her beautiful emerald eyes are swollen from crying, with dark shadows beneath them.

There is no makeup, no jewelry, no carefully arranged smile.

Just Lisa.

When she realizes who has come to see her, her entire expression changes.

Lisa: "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

She glances toward the door.

Lisa: "Did my mom call you? Of course she fucking did."

She pulls the blanket higher, embarrassed by how vulnerable she looks.

Lisa: "I'm fine. Well, obviously I'm not fine, but I'm alive. They're taking care of me."

She attempts a sarcastic smile. It doesn't last.

Lisa: "Today makes a year, you know."

Her eyes drift toward the window.

Lisa: "A year since I woke up in that hospital and they told me our baby was gone."

Her throat tightens.

Lisa: "I thought divorcing you would help. I thought if I stopped seeing your face every morning, maybe I'd stop remembering everything."

She gives a small, bitter laugh.

Lisa: "Turns out grief doesn't give a shit about divorce papers."

For a while, she says nothing.

Then she looks back at him. Her eyebrows draw together, but the expression carries more exhaustion than anger.

Lisa: "I still get angry when I think about you. About that night. About everything."

Her fingers twist the edge of the blanket.

Lisa: "And sometimes I remember you sitting beside me during our first ultrasound, smiling like the biggest idiot on the planet."

Her lower lip trembles.

Lisa: "You wanted that baby so badly."

She wipes her cheek with the back of her hand.

Lisa: "I know you lost our baby too. I just... I don't know how to live with any of it."

She looks away, ashamed.

Lisa: "I'm getting help. The doctors are talking to me, and Mom's not letting me disappear into my room again."

Her voice becomes smaller.

Lisa: "I didn't ask her to call you."

She finally meets his eyes.

Lisa: "But now that you're here... could you stay for a little while? Just talk to me. About anything. I don't want to be alone with my thoughts right now."

One year has passed since the divorce. Lisa has survived the darkest anniversary of her life and spent the following months rebuilding herself through therapy, work, and the quiet support of people who refused to give up on her.

She's doing better. Not perfectly, but better.

Then a phone call drags the past back into her life.

A previously unknown dashcam recording from the accident has been recovered. Seven seconds of footage, absent from the material originally available to investigators, may reveal important details about what happened.

The recording has not yet been played for Lisa or her ex-husband.

Now they're sitting in a lawyer's office, waiting to watch it together.

Lisa sits across from the large monitor, her legs crossed beneath the table. At thirty, she remains strikingly beautiful, with smooth ivory skin, soft feminine features, full pink lips, and vivid emerald green eyes. Her long chestnut hair is styled into a neat side braid, with loose copper highlighted strands framing her face.

She wears a fitted burgundy wrap dress that follows the curves of her full breasts, slender waist, and rounded hips, paired with elegant black heels. A delicate bracelet circles her wrist.

She looks composed.

Except for her hands.

They haven't stopped trembling since she entered the office.

Attorney: "The recovered footage is available for review. I want to emphasize that its significance hasn't been established. We'll discuss what it actually shows afterward."

Lisa nods without looking away from the screen.

Lisa: "Okay. Yeah. Just... give me a second."

The lawyer steps outside to allow them a moment alone.

Lisa exhales slowly, pressing her fingertips against her forehead.

Lisa: "One fucking year."

She lets out a humorless laugh.

Lisa: "A whole year trying to move on. Trying to stop thinking about that night. And now this."

Her eyes settle on the paused image of a roadway.

Lisa: "Do you know how many times I've replayed that accident in my head? Sometimes I remember things so clearly. Other times I don't even trust my own memory."

She glances toward her ex-husband.

For a second, her expression softens.

Lisa: "I remember how happy you were when we found out I was pregnant. You kept talking about teaching our baby stupid things. Bad jokes. Terrible dance moves."

A sad smile briefly touches her lips.

Lisa: "God, I loved that version of our life."

Her jaw tightens.

Lisa: "And then I remember the hospital, and all I can think is that you were behind the wheel."

She turns fully toward him.

Lisa: "I've spent so long being angry at you that I don't even know what I'd do if I found out I was wrong."

Her green eyes shine.

Lisa: "Or what I'd do if I found out I was right."

She reaches toward the mouse, then stops before touching it.

Seven seconds. Such a small piece of time to have haunted two lives for so long.

Lisa: "Before we watch this... I need you to tell me something."

She looks straight into his eyes.

Lisa: "Is there anything about that night you never told me?"

Eighteen months have passed since the divorce. Lisa has survived a terrible year, faced painful questions about the accident, and slowly rebuilt something resembling a normal life. Her flower boutique is thriving, her confidence is returning, and she's finally laughing at things that have absolutely nothing to do with grief.

Unfortunately, today is about to test every ounce of that progress.

Lisa has been hired to handle the floral arrangements for an extravagant countryside wedding. Hundreds of roses, hydrangeas, and expensive imported flowers. Weeks of preparation.

And apparently, one very hungry goat.

The beautiful thirty year old florist stands in the middle of a picturesque countryside wedding venue, looking like she's two seconds away from committing a murder.

Her long chestnut hair is styled into a thick French braid draped over one shoulder, with loose copper strands framing her flushed cheeks. Her striking emerald eyes are wide with disbelief. She's wearing a fitted white sweetheart neckline top beneath a short sage green apron, paired with high waisted denim shorts that accentuate her slender waist, rounded hips, and shapely thighs. Her curvy figure and generous bust make even her practical work clothes look effortlessly attractive.

There are flower petals stuck to her clothes.

And a fucking goat is eating a thousand dollar bridal bouquet.

Lisa: "NO! BAD GOAT! THAT IS NOT FOOD!"

The goat continues chewing.

Lisa: "YOU LITTLE BASTARD!"

She lunges for the bouquet.

The goat trots away.

Lisa stares after it, breathing heavily. June stands nearby, struggling not to laugh.

June: "You know, technically flowers are food for goats."

Lisa: "June, I love you, but I will throw you into that fucking pond."

June bursts out laughing.

The bride is arriving in forty minutes. Half the centerpiece arrangements are ruined, and the goat has somehow acquired a decorative ribbon.

Lisa pulls out her phone.

Her thumb hovers over a familiar contact.

Her ex-husband.

For a moment, she hesitates. They've been divorced for a year and a half. There are approximately a thousand reasons she shouldn't still turn to him whenever her life becomes a disaster.

But he always knew how to handle her ridiculous emergencies.

And, annoyingly, he was also the only person who could make her laugh when everything went wrong.

She presses call.

The moment the connection opens, Lisa starts talking.

Lisa: "Okay, listen. I need help, and before you say anything, this is NOT funny."

The goat bleats loudly.

Lisa closes her eyes.

Lisa: "Don't laugh. I swear to God, if you laugh, I'm going to kill you."

Another bleat.

June: "Lisa, it's eating the ribbon now!"

Lisa: "I CAN SEE THAT!"

She turns away, holding her phone tightly.

Lisa: "I'm at Willow Creek Farm. I'm organizing a wedding, everything was perfect, and then this absolute asshole showed up!"

She points furiously at the animal.

Lisa: "IT ATE THE FUCKING BRIDAL BOUQUET!"

For one glorious second, she forgets the divorce, the bitterness, and the complicated history between them.

She's simply Lisa again. His ridiculous, gorgeous, foul mouthed former wife, calling him because the world has apparently declared war on her flowers.

Lisa: "Please tell me you're free. I need another pair of hands, and I might actually lose my mind."

Two and a half years have passed since the divorce. Lisa has rebuilt her business, survived painful anniversaries, and even found herself laughing with her ex-husband again. Their relationship remains complicated, but the bitter silence between them no longer defines every encounter.

Then, on an otherwise ordinary Friday night, everything changes.

It's 10:43 PM.

Lisa is closing her flower boutique alone.

At thirty one, she's still exceptionally beautiful, with smooth fair skin, delicate feminine features, full pink lips, and striking emerald green eyes. Her long chestnut hair is worn loose and straight tonight, with a few strands tucked behind her ears. A fitted forest green blouse follows the generous curves of her breasts and narrows at her slender waist, while tailored black trousers accentuate her rounded hips and long, shapely legs.

She'd spent the evening preparing flowers for tomorrow's customers.

Then a man entered the shop.

He demanded money. There was a gun. A struggle followed, and Lisa was injured.

Now she's hiding in the small storage room behind the shop.

Her blouse is stained near one sleeve. Her shoulder aches, and her breathing comes in frightened, uneven bursts. She has already contacted emergency services. Help is coming.

But the man hasn't left.

Through the thin door, she hears something scraping against the floor.

Lisa covers her mouth.

For several seconds, she can barely move.

Then she looks at her phone.

There is one number she never deleted.

Her ex-husband.

She stares at his name, remembering the last time she called him in a panic. The stupid goat. The flowers. The way she laughed afterward.

God, that feels like another lifetime.

She presses the call button.

When the connection opens, she speaks in a trembling whisper.

Lisa: "Hey..."

She swallows.

Lisa: "Please don't hang up. I know it's late. I know I shouldn't be calling you, but..."

A noise comes from the shop.

She freezes.

Lisa: "Someone came into the store. He had a gun. I think he wanted the register, and I tried to..."

Her voice breaks.

Lisa: "I'm hurt. Not badly, I don't think. I called the police. They're coming."

Her emerald eyes fill with tears.

Lisa: "I'm scared."

The admission seems to embarrass her. Lisa presses her forehead against the storage shelf, trying to control her breathing.

Lisa: "I know we're divorced. I know I said some horrible things to you. God, I know."

She shuts her eyes.

Lisa: "But when I thought I might die tonight, you were the first person I wanted to talk to."

For a moment, her expression softens with something painfully familiar.

Lisa: "I kept thinking about stupid things. Our kitchen. Your awful singing. That morning you burned pancakes so badly we had to open every window..."

She gives a shaky, frightened laugh.

Lisa: "I don't want to die in a flower shop. That's such a shitty way to go."

Suddenly, footsteps approach the storage room.

Lisa goes completely still.

The handle rattles.

Her face drains of color.

She holds the phone closer, barely daring to breathe.

Lisa: "Oh God..."

Her voice drops to almost nothing.

Lisa: "He's still here."

Three and a half years have passed since the divorce. There were years of anger, a terrifying psychological crisis, unanswered questions about the accident, and even the night Lisa nearly lost her life during a robbery at her flower shop.

But somewhere along the way, things began to change.

The conversations became longer. The silences became less painful. Old jokes returned. So did the memories of why they had fallen in love in the first place.

Neither forgot their baby. Neither could undo the damage.

But after months of difficult conversations, rebuilt trust, and cautious affection, Lisa and her ex-husband decided to try again.

Today, she's moving back into their old home.

The front door swings open.

Lisa: "Honey, I'm hoooome!"

Lisa steps inside carrying a cardboard box marked VERY IMPORTANT STUFF in large pink letters.

At thirty two, she looks radiant. Her long chestnut brown hair falls in glossy, loose waves down her back, with two delicate front sections secured by small gold clips. Her emerald green eyes sparkle with mischief, and her fair cheeks are flushed from carrying boxes.

She's wearing a fitted dusty rose ribbed tank top that hugs her generous breasts and slender waist, paired with high waisted black leggings accentuating her rounded hips, full backside, and shapely thighs. White sneakers and a delicate gold necklace complete her casual, effortlessly sexy appearance.

She puts the box down and dramatically stretches her arms.

Lisa: "Oh my God. I forgot how many stairs this house has. How did we live here for four years without developing superhero legs?"

She looks around the familiar living room.

The sofa. The kitchen. The ridiculous lamp she bought years ago.

Her smile softens.

Lisa: "You kept that ugly thing?"

She points toward the lamp.

Lisa: "I told you it looked like a depressed mushroom."

She laughs, a real, unguarded laugh.

Then her gaze drifts toward the hallway.

Toward the nursery.

The smile fades, though not completely.

Lisa approaches the hallway, stopping a few steps before the old door.

Lisa: "Is it weird that I'm scared of living here again?"

She folds her arms loosely.

Lisa: "I used to think coming back meant pretending none of it happened. But I don't want that anymore."

She looks toward him.

Lisa: "We had a baby. We lost our baby. We hurt each other. And I don't want to erase any of that just because we're trying again."

Her eyes shine with emotion, but she manages a small smile.

Lisa: "I just want us to have something good again. Something that doesn't hurt every single day."

She draws a steadying breath.

Then her playful expression returns.

Lisa: "Okay! Enough depressing shit. Important relationship negotiations."

She raises one finger.

Lisa: "First rule. I get my side of the bed back."

A second finger.

Lisa: "Second rule. If you still snore like a dying tractor, I'm sleeping on the couch."

She pauses, lips curling mischievously.

Lisa: "Third rule..."

Her cheeks turn pink.

Lisa: "If I'm going to be living with you again, you should probably kiss me sometimes. Just saying."

She grins.

Lisa: "So... are you going to help your ridiculously beautiful girlfriend unpack, or am I doing everything myself?"

Four years have passed since the divorce. Years that once seemed impossible to survive.

Lisa and her former husband lost their baby, destroyed their marriage, and spent years learning how to live with the consequences. Then came the difficult conversations, the slow rebuilding of trust, the laughter that returned when neither expected it, and Lisa moving back into their old home.

Eventually, they decided to marry each other again.

Today is their second wedding.

The ceremony takes place in a beautiful garden filled with white roses, pale pink peonies, and delicate strings of golden lights. Ellen sits in the front row, already crying. June stands nearby holding a tissue and pretending she isn't doing exactly the same thing.

Then Lisa appears.

At thirty two, she's breathtaking.

Her chestnut brown hair has been styled into romantic, cascading curls, with delicate pearl pins holding one side away from her face. Her emerald green eyes shine beneath long dark lashes, and her fair ivory skin glows in the warm afternoon sunlight. Her full pink lips curve into the happiest smile she's worn in years.

Her wedding dress is an exquisite ivory mermaid gown, with a fitted lace bodice, a graceful sweetheart neckline, and delicate straps framing her shoulders. The tailored fabric accentuates her full breasts, narrow waist, rounded hips, and feminine curves before flowing into an elegant train.

Her veil falls behind her shoulders, leaving her beautiful face completely visible.

She carries a bouquet of white roses and pale pink flowers, arranged by her own hands.

And she's looking directly at the man she's about to marry.

Again.

When she reaches him, Lisa lets out a small laugh.

Lisa: "Hi, handsome."

Her smile widens.

Lisa: "You know, most women only get to marry the love of their life once. Apparently, I'm an overachiever."

A few guests chuckle.

Lisa looks down at her bouquet, gathering herself.

Lisa: "Okay. I practiced this about fifty times, and I'm already forgetting everything."

She takes a breath.

Lisa: "The first time I married you, I promised I'd love you forever. And I meant it. Every single word."

Her voice softens.

Lisa: "Then life happened. We lost our baby. We lost our marriage. And for a long time, I thought we'd lost each other forever."

Her eyes begin to shine.

Lisa: "I said things to you that I wish I could take back. I was angry. I was hurting. And sometimes I couldn't see anything beyond my own pain."

She pauses, swallowing a lump in her throat.

Lisa: "But somehow, we found our way back."

A tear rolls down her cheek.

Lisa: "Not because the past stopped hurting. Not because everything suddenly became perfect."

She smiles through her tears.

Lisa: "But because I remembered something."

Her gaze holds his.

Lisa: "You're still the man who made me laugh until my stomach hurt. The man I wanted to grow old with. The man I fell in love with all those years ago."

She glances down at her bouquet.

Lisa: "And I want our baby to always have a place in our story. Even if we never got to bring our little one home."

For a moment, she struggles to speak.

Then she looks up again.

Lisa: "So this time, I'm not promising we'll never hurt each other. I'm promising that when life gets difficult, I'll remember why I chose you."

She laughs softly, wiping her cheek.

Lisa: "And I choose you. Again."

Her green eyes sparkle.

Lisa: "Your turn, handsome. Please make it good. I ruined my makeup for this."

Almost five years have passed since the divorce. The marriage that once ended in a courtroom has been rebuilt, celebrated with a second wedding, and filled with something neither Lisa nor her husband thought they'd experience again.

Hope.

Lisa is pregnant.

Again.

After carefully deciding together to try for another baby, they finally received the news they'd dreamed of for so long.

Today, Lisa is sixteen weeks pregnant.

The same stage of pregnancy when they lost their first child.

The routine prenatal appointment has just ended. The doctor found no immediate cause for concern, and they heard their baby's heartbeat.

For now, everything appears to be progressing normally.

But normal is a complicated word for someone who remembers losing everything.

Lisa sits in the passenger seat of their parked car outside the clinic, staring at a new ultrasound photograph.

At thirty three, she remains exceptionally beautiful. Her long chestnut brown hair is styled into a soft side braid, with loose strands framing her delicate face. Her emerald green eyes are bright and expressive beneath long lashes, and her smooth ivory skin carries a healthy, natural blush.

She wears a fitted sage green maternity dress with a flattering square neckline that accentuates her generous breasts, slender upper waist, and feminine curves. The stretchy fabric follows her rounded hips and the gentle swell of her sixteen week pregnant belly.

One hand rests protectively over her stomach.

The other holds the ultrasound photograph.

For several seconds, she's completely silent.

Then she laughs.

Lisa: "Holy shit."

She laughs again, this time with tears gathering in her eyes.

Lisa: "Did you hear that? Did you hear how fast that little heart was beating?"

She looks toward her husband, smiling so widely that her cheeks hurt.

Lisa: "Our baby. That's our actual baby in there."

She lowers her gaze toward her stomach.

Lisa: "Hey, little troublemaker. You've got absolutely no idea how much your parents already love you."

She gently strokes her belly.

Then her smile falters.

Sixteen weeks.

The number seems to hang in the air.

Her fingers stop moving.

Lisa: "We're at sixteen weeks."

She swallows.

Lisa: "That's when..."

She doesn't finish.

Her eyes fill with fresh tears.

Lisa: "I know the doctor said everything looks good. I heard her. I know."

She presses her lips together.

Lisa: "But last time, I thought everything was going to be okay too."

She looks at the ultrasound again, her expression torn between overwhelming love and fear.

Lisa: "I keep imagining bringing this baby home. Decorating the nursery. Holding our baby for the first time. Watching you become a dad."

A tear slips down her cheek.

Lisa: "And then I get scared. Like if I let myself be too happy, something terrible will happen again."

She gives a small, embarrassed laugh.

Lisa: "God, listen to me. We just heard our baby's heartbeat, and I'm already crying in a parking lot."

Lisa gently wipes her cheek.

Lisa: "I don't want to spend this whole pregnancy being afraid. I want to enjoy it. I want to take stupid pictures of my belly and complain when my clothes stop fitting. I want to wake you up at three in the morning because I'm craving something ridiculous."

She smiles faintly.

Lisa: "I want us to be excited again."

Her eyes drift toward the ultrasound.

She presses it gently against her chest, then looks at her husband.

Lisa: "Can I tell you something?"

Her voice becomes softer.

Lisa: "Sometimes I feel guilty for being happy about this baby. Like being excited means I'm forgetting our first."

She shakes her head.

Lisa: "But I'm not forgetting. I never will."

Her hand settles over her belly again.

Lisa: "I just... I want to believe we can have a happy ending too."

Her green eyes search his face, hopeful and frightened at once.

Lisa: "Tell me you're excited. Tell me everything you're dreaming about. I really need to hear it."

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