The storm had been coming for days.

  It started as a low hum in the air, a tension beneath the skin, one of those storms you could feel in your bones before the clouds even turned. Amelia had felt it that morning, the day everything changed. A sudden sharp ache, a fluttering in her stomach that felt different from before. She was 26 weeks pregnant.

  Amelia and her husband Mark were on the way to the hospital when the sky finally broke open.

  Sheets of rain turned the road into a blur. Mark had both hands tight on the wheel, eyes narrowed, jaw set. Amelia remembered looking at him and thinking how strong he always looked when he was scared.

  Mark, worried for his wife, just wanted to reach hospital as soon as possible. As mark was driving through the harsh rain and strong winds constantly blocking his vision, he heard something coming towards him with insane speed and just vanish behind his vehicle, he instinctively checked his rear view mirrors to see what really went by and in that short moment when he wasn't looking on the road, something happened.

  Turns out when mark was looking in the mirror and not on the road, he unintentionally moved slightly into the other ne where the incoming car which was moving way beyond the speed limit, crashed right into them and even in panic, mark used all his strength to keep control of his vehicle which was totally off bance due to the impact and the storm that's going on also didn't help their case.

  After their car stopped moving mark looked on the road and see no other vehicles present except for the car that crashed into them and rolled over behind them and their own.

  Then he immediately turned to Amelia to check on her, he realised a big mistake has been made by them which none of them realised untill thys moment.

  Amelia wasn't wearing her seat belt.

  In the silence that followed the crash, Amelia didn’t hear sirens. She didn’t hear Mark’s shouting or the splintering gss. All she heard was the stillness inside her—the absence of movement, of life. She knew before the hospital did.

  Two months ter...

  The rain had never quite stopped since the accident. It was as if the world knew something had been lost and refused to let the sun back in.

  One afternoon, Amelia's mother visited. Her voice, usually a comfort, now sounded like static.

  "You can't keep hiding, sweetheart," she said to Amelia. "You need to talk to someone, you need —"

  "I need her back," Amelia snapped. "You're still young" her mother offered gently. Pcing her hand on her Amelia's knee. "There'll be more chances. You can—"

  "Stop" Amelia whispered with broken voice not looking at her. "She wasn't a chance, she was her".

  Her mother left without another word.

  Mark tried in his own ways. He left sticky notes on her bathroom mirror reminding her how much he loves her but they stayed untouched, curling at the corners like leaves.

  One afternoon, Mark found Amelia in the nursery. She was standing in front of the empty crib, tracing its edge like it might wake her. He didn’t say a word. Just stood in the doorway and watched her sink slowly to the floor, wrapping herself around nothing.

  That night, Mark made a decision.

  One morning, he pced a set of keys and a folded brochure on the kitchen table.

  “A farm,” he said. “Three hours away. Quiet. Clean air. Maybe… a new start.”

  She didn’t respond. But the next day, she packed a suitcase without a word.

  Mark knew that if they remain in the same house, Amelia won't be able to move forward with her life because every single thing about this house was made for their baby. Amelia herself selected this house, furniture, paint and rooms to match her ideal version of family home. So mark decided to leave this pce and start a new life with Amelia.

  Amelia sat in the passenger seat, her hand pressed gently to her stomach out of habit. There was nothing there now—just silence where once there had been fluttering life.

  She stared bnkly out the window as the car rolled past small towns, endless trees, and finally into the quiet heart of the countryside.

  Mark, gnced at her, but said nothing. He’d learned that words had weight, and sometimes they pressed down too hard. So he just drove, one hand on the wheel, the other occasionally brushing her knuckles.

  They moved into a small farmhouse with paint peeling at the corners, surrounded by fields still soaked from yesterday’s rain. The wind here smelled different—like wet earth and distant beginnings. But Amelia didn’t care.

  Days passed in silence. Mark cooked. Amelia barely ate. Mark spoke. Amelia listened, sometimes. At night, she curled away from him, holding a bnket tight to her chest like it might fill the empty space inside her.

  One afternoon, Mark said, “Let’s go into town." Thinking this would help her release some stress.

  Amelia didn’t answer. But she got dressed.

  During their visit to the nearby town, they came across a pet shop which mark realised belonged to his uncle Henry. So he they went inside to meet him. There they met a teenage girl Rosy, who's working there part-time as a clerk. She told them that uncle Henry is out and will be returning soon.

  Meanwhile Amelia wandered aimlessly past rows of tanks and cages barely noticing the flurry of fur and wagging tails around her.

  Then she saw him.

  In the far corner, half-shrouded in shadow, sat a puppy—small, mottled gray and white, curled tightly into himself like he was trying to disappear. He wasn’t barking. He wasn’t moving. He was just watching. His eyes, dark and wide, met hers and didn’t look away.

  “You look like you’ve lost something,” she whispered. Amelia crouched slowly, knees trembling. The dog tilted his head slightly, as if to ask, “You too?”.

  The teenage clerk wandered by. “That one? He doesn’t do much. Some people say he’s broken or something. Doesn’t really py. Barely eats. Probably gonna get sent back if no one takes him.”

  Sent back. As if broken things didn’t deserve a pce.

  Amelia didn’t break her gaze. “He’s not broken. He’s grieving.”

  "What's his name?" she asked Rosy. “No one bothered naming him yet. He doesn’t respond to anything.” Rosy replied.

  Mark had walked up quietly behind her. He crouched down, resting a gentle hand on her back. “Amelia…”

  She turned to him, her voice barely holding together. “He’s the first thing I’ve seen that looks like how I feel inside, his eyes resemble mine”

  Mark watched them, eyes shining, heart breaking and healing all at once.

  “We’ll take him,” Amelia said, her voice ragged but clear.

  On the ride home, she held the puppy like a fragile thing. He rested his head against her chest, above the pce where her child used to be.

  She whispered to him, “You don’t have to be okay yet. I’m not either.”