She told me I am always very quiet, that I don’t talk much about anything with anyone. She fought with me about that and I said nothing. It got her mad as hell so I’d sleep on the sofa. She had always known that I don’t like talking a lot, I don’t like hearing noise and I especially appreciate hearing music.

The night would pass and everything was back to normal. I would make breakfast as always since she had to be at work on time and I could stay at home for more 2 hours.

But that night I didn’t sleep on the sofa. I didn’t sleep at all. She felt sick, she almost passed out so I took her to the hospital. 8 hours of exams, various blood analyses, TC Scans, ECG’s and many more words you barely can pronounce, she was sent to a specialist. An obstetrician. I was speechless. The doctor, a mid aged woman with very white teeth and brown short hair, came to me while I was in the waiting room.

-        -  Hello Mr. Aston. My name is Isabel Keaton, I’m treating your wife. She told me that you have no idea what’s happened or what is wrong. – She touched my shoulder so I would seat.

-          - Yes, I don’t know. Is she okay? – I sat and she sat right in front of me.

-         -  Mr. Aston, I’m really sorry but your wife had I miscarriage. – My blood turned cold. I had no idea. – She is okay but we have to keep her here for a while to make sure she Is totally fine and there is nothing wrong with her.

-          - I didn’t know. I didn’t even know. It was my fault – I started to cry, with my hands on my face.

-          - It was not your fault, Mr. Aston.

-         -  Can I see her? – I asked while sobbing, in the middle of tears and pain.

-          - Yes, I will go with you. She is very fragile so don’t make her speak much.

-          - I won’t.

I felt shivers, cold, pain, nauseas, everything at the same time invaded my body to give me only a feeling that, somehow, I made it. I was the one to blame. 

Was I?