CH 50: This time, He stayed.

Renee came to in the hosptial, hearing unwanted news. Weeks had passed since her miscarriage, yet Renee remained under close observation. Her body was healing, slowly, but her heart—her spirit—felt broken in places she couldn’t touch. The walls were clean, the air stiff, the days blending into each other like one long, quiet pain. Jake was always there. Morning and night, sometimes curled on the small chair with a blanket and shoes still on. He bathed her when she couldn’t, held her hand when the pain overwhelmed her, whispered stories just to remind her the world was still turning outside those walls. Jake had arranged for the boys to stay with her mother longer. He said it was best for them, and for her. She agreed. She watched as Mike slowly disapeared. At first, it was the shorter visits. Then less calls. The quiet, absent look in his eyes when he did come. Renee watched it happen, unable to stop it. Jake did, too. But he never said a word. Mike had started to detatch. Every time he looked at her, he saw the blood. His hands—his choices—had left scars he didn’t know how to mend. And he no longer trusted himself to be what she needed. So he stayed away, hoping the space would spare her more pain. Renee didn’t say it aloud, but she was beginning to wonder…

Was he already gone? The door clicked softly as Jake stepped out, offering to grab coffee from downstairs. Renee watched him, appreciating the warmth he brought to the cold corners of the hospital room. But now, it was just her and Mike. The silence between them pressed in like an empty presence. He stood by the window, hands in the pockets of his jeans, staring at nothing. “Mike,” Renee said softly. He didn’t turn. “Yeah?” She hesitated, then pushed past the nerves. “Why are you being so... quiet, distant?” He finally turned to face her without looking at her. His eyes were tired—broken. “I don't mean to be.”
“But you are,” she said. “I have hardly seen you. You barely talk to me. You won’t even touch or look at me.” Mike looked further down, his jaw tightening. “Because I don’t trust myself,” he said. “Not after what happened.”
“That wasn’t your fault—”
“Yes, it was,” he cut in, voice sharper than intended. “I knew we were pushing your limits. I felt it. I saw you wince. And I still didn’t stop, and then my hands....” Tears swelled in both of their eyes. “I held you after,” he whispered. “And all I could think was… *I did this*. I killed our baby.”

“Mike,” her voice cracked, “you didn’t.” But he didn’t seem to listen. “You almost died Renee. I can’t be the one who breaks you again.” Renee reached for him, desperate to pull him out of whatever darkness had claimed him. But he took a step back. And for the first time, he said what she feared most. “I don’t know if I can come back from that." Renee’s heart dropped. Was he about to leave her, for something that was an accident? The quiet, clean room seemed to hum louder around her. “What do you mean?” she asked, with fear she already knew. Mike’s eyes swelled, but no tears fell. “I love you. God, I love you so much it hurts,” he said, voice rough. “But every time I close my eyes, I see you—bleeding, pale, slipping away from me. And I see my hands holding you down during sex when I should have been gentle like Jake...”
“You were there, Mike. You didn’t cause this.” He gave a bitter laugh. “That’s what everyone says. But I don't believe it. And if I can’t forgive myself, how the hell am I supposed to be the man you need right now?”

Renee’s fingers dug into the hospital blanket. “I don’t need you to be perfect. I need you to show up.” He stepped forward, then stopped again. Torn. Shaken. “I don’t want to hurt you worse than I already have." Mike’s words hung in the air like smoke—impossible to catch, impossible to ignore. Renee swallowed hard, her voice steady but soft. “If walking away is what helps you breathe again… then I won’t stop you.” He froze in the doorway, back still to her. “I never stopped loving you,” she added, her voice cracking slightly. “Even when you started pulling away. I still don’t.” Mike turned halfway, eyes glassy, jaw clenched. “That’s the worst part… I love you too much to keep breaking you.” Their eyes met—two hearts tethered by something bruised but never quite broken. “I’ll keep a light on,” she whispered. His throat bobbed, but he said nothing more. And then… he left. A few days later, Renee was finally discharged. The hospital bed, the quiet hallways, and the echo of beeping monitors faded behind her as Jake helped her into the truck. His hand never left hers the whole ride home. Once they pulled into the driveway, he moved quickly but carefully—making sure every step she took was supported. He didn’t bring her upstairs, though she insisted she could manage. Instead, he had already set up the living room with extra blankets, soft pillows, her favorite candles, and a stack of books beside the couch.

He even moved the kettle close so she wouldn’t have to get up for tea. Weeks passed like that. Quiet mornings with shared glances over coffee. Slow afternoons where Jake worked around the house or took calls outside while still checking in on her every hour. In the evenings, they’d sit close, sometimes watching TV, sometimes not saying anything at all. But the silence wasn’t empty—it was full of something warm and real. Renee often found herself watching him when he wasn’t looking. She remembered the first time they’d made plans—how rushed it all had felt, how tangled in old wounds and unresolved feelings. Then she thought of what he said when he came back… how he wanted to choose her this time. No running. No doubt. And since the miscarriage, he hadn’t once stepped away. Jake hadn’t tiptoed around her grief. He didn’t smother her in false positivity or disappear when it got too hard. He simply stayed. He held her when she broke down. He made her laugh when she couldn’t imagine smiling. He never asked her to move on—he just made her feel like she could.

She was still healing, but the ache in her chest had changed. It wasn’t just loss anymore. It was love. Clear and undeniable. And as she sat curled under the blanket, Jake placing a fresh cup of tea in her hand and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, Renee finally allowed herself to feel it fully. She really loved him. Not the memory of him. Not the idea of what they could have been. But him. Now. Exactly as he was. She did miss Mike, but he had left her. Something he said he would never do to her, she understood the space, but to leave. She brushed that thought away, Jake was here, and she wanted to embrace this small fraction of what she called, 'happiness'.