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Ashley didn’t understand. She couldn’t. No matter what the doctor kept trying to tell her and Chris, none of it made any sense. The test she had taken a couple of weeks ago said that she was pregnant—it had!—so why hadn't anything shown up on the ultrasound?
The doctor tried explaining again, but Ashley interrupted. She had been feeling fine all week, no cramps or pains or, or anything. It was true that ever since she had stopped taking her birth control that her periods had swung wildly out of sync, going anywhere from a couple of weeks between each one to nearly two months. And okay, so she had been spotting a little bit over the last couple of days, but she had read that it was normal in the first trimester. And the pregnancy test had finally come back positive after months and months and months of trying, and the two of them had been so unbelievably happy.
She couldn’t have lost it that quickly, she couldn’t have.
The doctor waits for Ashley to finish, and then tried again just as calmly and patiently as the first five times. There was no impatience in their face. No anger or frustration or anything. Nothing but so, so much pity. Once again, the doctor reassured her and Chris that they had done nothing wrong, they hadn’t lost anything. It was rare, but false positives did occasionally happen.They couldn't say why it happened, if it was an issue with the test itself or if the egg had been unable to properly implant and grow but still released the chemical anyways. The fact of the matter was that it had happened, and it wasn't her fault. None of this was anyone’s fault, much less hers.
Ashley hadn’t lost the baby, because there hadn't been a baby to lose in the first place.
The doctor apparently sees the understanding wash over her face, because they’re apologizing the next second. Ashley laughs weakly, her hand tightening painfully in Chris’s, as she says that they have nothing to be sorry for. That if anyone should be apologizing, it should be the two of them. Taking up their time for nothing when they could be helping someone who actually needs help. Who actually has a baby to get looked at.
The pity and sadness in the doctor’s face only deepens.
The doctor lets the two of them know that it’s fine if they want to stay and discuss things here. They’ll leave the two of them alone and make sure that no one else enters the room if that’s what they want. It isn’t. All Ashley wants to do is go back home and she tells them as much. The doctor only nods, and with one last apology leaves the two of them alone.
Chris and her follow not long after. Her hand is still tight in his, and she isn’t too sure which of them is holding on tighter. She isn’t crying though. She wants to, she wants nothing more than to sob and scream and wail over what she apparently never lost, she just can’t.
The drive to the pregnancy clinic had been full of excited laughter and bright smiles. They had discussed just what exactly they were going to do with all their stuff in the second bedroom that they had converted into an office space of sorts. Had joked about Ashley now kicking Chris from the kitchen table so she could write now that she had lost her workspace, and then laughed because that meant that Chris was going to have to choose between the couch or the bed for his own computer work. Excited about who the first people they were going to tell would be, and just how much Josh would lose his mind when he found out.
In comparison, the one back home is anything but. It's quiet and somber, both of them remembering the joy from only an hour or so earlier and both wanting to do nothing more than forget all of it.
She still doesn’t cry.
The second the two of them arrived back in their apartment, Ashley kicked off her shoes and dropped her coat to the ground without a thought. She thinks she hears Chris putting her shoes and coat away, but she’s already making a run for the bathroom. She slams the door shut behind her and turns the shower on, resolutely not looking at the mirror above the sink. She doesn't want to see how pale her face is and how red her eyes are despite not having shed a single tear.
As she’s getting undressed, she takes a look at her underwear, and realizes that it's now almost fully covered in blood from her period that’s finally started in earnest. And it’s close, she can feel the painful sob ready to rip itself out of her throat, but then she’s tossing the soiled clothing into the sink to wash later and steps into the almost scalding hot water.
She still doesn’t cry.
The water almost burns her skin, turning her flesh bright pink but it's so much easier to deal with than the pain inside that's threatening to overtake her any second. As quick as she can, Ashley's scrubbing roughly at her stomach, turning the bright pink into an angry red with how hard she's doing everything she possibly can to wash away every trace of the ultrasound gel that may still be there. At one point, she had dropped the bottle of soap and nearly screamed in frustration and agony.
She still doesn’t cry.
She hasn't even bothered to dry herself off when she starts digging through the bathroom cupboard for the tampons. She's now shaking so bad that she almost fumbles the box out of her hand and spills them around her on the floor. Barely a minute later, she's rushing out of the bathroom to her and Chris's bedroom, leaving her clothes a messy pile on the tiled floor that she intends to deal with later. Ashley's almost at the door when she manages to overhear a part of the conversation Chris is having on the phone. Telling whoever it is that she came down with a bad case of food poisoning and that they unfortunately won’t be able to make supper tonight like they had planned.
She'd forgotten, the two of them were supposed to have dinner tonight with his parents. They had planned on breaking the news over dessert and to show them the ultrasound. It was the entire reason they had made the plans after all, to let them know that they were finally going to be grandparents.
She still doesn’t cry.
The second she’s managed to pull out a fresh pair of underwear and thrown on the shirt that Chris had left at the end of the bed, she’s curled up on top of it staring at nothing on the wall. His parents had kept telling them over and over again that if it was meant to be, then the two of them would have kids one day. Just look at them, they had given up all hope of ever having kids of their own. They were almost into their fifties when they had been finally blessed with Chris, their own little miracle baby.
Ashley knows that it will happen one day—it has to happen, it has to!—she had just been so sure that that day was now.
She still doesn’t cry.
At her back, she hears the door to the bedroom softly close with a gentle click, and then the heavy, but hesitant, footsteps of Chris as he walks to the bed. He whispers her name once, and she hears and understands the five hundred questions he doesn't ask, so she nods weakly. He clearly understands her too, the next thing she hears is the ever familiar clatter of Chris’s glasses being placed on the bedside table, and then the mattress is dipping as he joins her on the bed.
Ashley doesn’t cry at the warmth and weight of him flush against her back as he curls himself around her, his arm wrapping firmly around her waist to hold her close. She doesn’t even cry when he burrows his face into her hair and she can feel the tears on his face as he softly sobs apologies over and over again into her neck.
It isn’t until she feels his fingers accidentally brush across her stomach that she finally shatters.