Chapter 3: Beneath The Surface

Steve brought Olivia back home, took care of all her needs. He prepared meals for her, supplied all the things required by her, and did all he could to bring normalcy into her life. But Olivia withdrew from all things. She stayed closeted up in the room, skipped meals, and abandoned all the things she loved doing.

Desperate, they underwent multiple therapy appointments with a psychiatrist. After close examination, the psychiatrist advised Steve to watch very carefully. "She is blaming herself for the miscarriage, even though she doesn't say anything about the miscarriage. She needs you to help her break this frame of mind—perhaps plan a vacation or coax her gently from the room."

Taking the advice to heart, Steve tried coaxing Olivia out. But the days passed, and Olivia remained entrenched in her loss. One evening, when he entered their room, he caught sight of Olivia sitting next to the cradle, gently swaying the cradle from side to side, softly mumbling, "Sleep. it's already night."

A deep ache sliced through the center of Steve's chest. His frustration, his heartbreak, and his frustration all erupted. "Olivia, this is enough!" he burst, shaking with anguish as he took hold of her by the shoulders. "You need to stop this! You need to move beyond this!"

"I know you can't possibly think you can lift the weight from your heart right now, but you know you're not alone. Grief isn't something you can schedule for, and you can't expect not to lose your sense of direction and break apart. Your heart is aching, and you can't make the ache go away, but you can hold onto me during this, day by day, for however many you need. But you know you're not alone."

Steve's voice quavered as he continued, his eyes watering up. "You'd kill for a child you were not even given the opportunity to bear alive. can't you live for the husband you still possess, waiting for you?" He broke apart and sank onto his knees, sobbing.

The next day, Olivia's mood lightened. In the hopes of lightening the mood even further, Steve invited Olivia for some fresh air. She went along begrudgingly. They strolled around town, and for the first time in weeks, Olivia smiled—a weak one, maybe, but genuine.

However, as Olivia wandered through the park, one small boy caught up to her, grabbing onto her hand. "Mother?" the boy said, his eyes wide and childlike, looking up towards her.

Olivia froze.

Before she could even act, the child's real mother burst over, sweeping him from the scene with a sorry smile. But for Olivia, the fleeting instant became agonizing. She lingered over the feeling—the fleeting, intoxicating illusion of being a mother. She became sharply attuned to all the children around her, their laughter echoing through her head like a bitter joke.

"Olivia? Olivia!" called Steve, feeling the panic rising.

She turned around towards him, her face expressionless. "Let's go back home," she whispered.

Understanding her sensitive nature, Steve did not argue. They went back home in silence.

That night, when Steve went to sleep, he caught Olivia taking the medication the physician had given her—a larger-than-usual dose. He hesitated, but all he could obtain from her was a tired smile. "I need to sleep," she whispered.

The next morning when Steve woke up, Olivia was once again in the depth of despair—worse even than the day before. That brief experience of being the child's mother only added depth to the loss for Olivia because the worst experience after the loss of one's own child is the experience of faking the feeling of being the child's mother for some minutes. Helplessly, Steve watched Olivia being pushed deeper into the dark.

That evening, when he arrived back home, his worst fear became reality.

There, in the dark room, Olivia hangs from the ceiling, dead once again but this time will not answer when I ask, will not cry.

Steve collapsed into shock, his whole world ruined beyond redemption.

Days passed by like a blur. After the investigation, Steve returned home, the house being lonelier than ever. But upon entry, he encountered a terrifying voice.

"How are you, my boy?"

Steve turned sharply to find himself confronted by the figure of a man wearing a dark suit and

said "What is the matter, Thomas?

Thomas smirked, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "I dropped by to say congratulations. That idea you had for making her kill herself proved like magic."