Lee Heeseung

The day Lee Heeseung found out you were pregnant was the happiest day of his life. He had wrapped his arms around you in the middle of the kitchen, tears threatening to fall as he whispered countless promises to both you and the tiny life growing inside your womb. From that day onward, he refused to let you carry heavy grocery bags, insisted on cooking whenever morning sickness left you exhausted, and cleaned the house before you even had the chance to lift a finger. Every night ended the same way—your head resting on his shoulder while the two of you watched movies, laughing or crying together, his hand never leaving your growing belly as if he could already feel your baby listening.

The months passed peacefully, filled with nursery shopping, ultrasound photos taped to the refrigerator, and quiet conversations about names. Whenever you became emotional, Heeseung would simply hold you close until your tears stopped, brushing your hair away and reminding you that you weren't carrying the burden alone. "We're doing this together," he would always say. His mother often smiled at the sight of her son fussing over you, convinced that the little family she had always dreamed of was finally becoming real.

Then, everything shattered in a single afternoon. A sudden, unbearable pain forced you to the hospital, and despite every desperate effort from the doctors, your baby couldn't be saved. The sterile silence of the hospital room felt louder than any scream. You cried until there were no tears left, while Heeseung sat beside the bed completely motionless, staring at the empty crib brochure still folded inside his jacket. Neither of you spoke on the journey home, because there were simply no words capable of filling the space your child had left behind.

The weeks that followed slowly transformed the man you had married into someone you barely recognised. Heeseung stopped sitting beside you during movie nights, stopped asking whether you had eaten, and stopped reaching for your hand in bed. Work became his excuse to stay away, until eventually he only came home twice a week, spending the rest of his time buried in endless overtime or sleeping at the office. The warmth in his eyes disappeared, replaced by a distant emptiness that made every conversation feel like one between strangers.

As if grieving wasn't already unbearable, his mother began visiting more frequently—not to comfort you, but to quietly remind you of what had been lost. She blamed you for the miscarriage, questioning whether you had rested enough, eaten properly, or taken sufficient care of the baby growing inside you. Every accusation pierced deeper than the last, leaving you standing silently while tears rolled down your face. Heeseung heard every word, yet remained silent, lowering his gaze instead of defending the woman he had once sworn to protect.

Months passed, and the house that had once echoed with laughter became painfully quiet. The nursery door remained closed, collecting dust, while ultrasound pictures slowly curled at the edges. You found yourself eating dinner alone almost every night, waiting for footsteps that rarely came anymore. Even when Heeseung returned, he barely looked at you before disappearing into the guest room, convincing himself that distance hurt less than confronting the grief both of you carried.

Neither of you had stopped mourning your child—but you mourned differently. You cried because you had lost your baby and your husband at the same time. Heeseung buried himself in silence because looking at you reminded him of everything he couldn't save. Neither of you knew how to reach the other anymore, leaving two broken hearts trapped inside the same home, wondering whether love could ever survive a loss that neither of you had deserved.