"Strings Between Us

What Could've Been

Tom’s POV

The apartment was quiet again.
Not peaceful — just quiet. The kind that felt like something was missing.

Isadora hadn’t moved much from the couch in days. She wore the same oversized hoodie, her hands occasionally ghosting over her stomach, as if trying to make sense of what was still there… and what wasn’t.

Tom sat alone in the nursery. The unfinished walls stared back at him — soft blue, a paint roller still leaning in the corner. One crib sat by the window. The second one was gone.

He couldn’t bring himself to touch the sketchbook again. Not tonight.

Instead, he picked up a pen and started writing on a torn-out page of his lyric journal.

March 19, 2007
I don't know what to say to you.
I never got to hold you. Never got to hear your cry.
I don’t even know if you would’ve looked like her or me.
But I miss you.
I miss the idea of you.
I miss what could’ve been.

You would’ve had a brother. A twin.
I swear to you, I’ll protect him. I’ll protect her.
I’ll make sure you’re never forgotten.

He folded the page and tucked it into a small stuffed bear — the one Isadora had picked out for them. For both of them.

Now it was just for one.

A few days later, they went to the hospital for a follow-up appointment. Isadora hadn’t said much the whole ride. Tom held her hand, but her grip was loose, distracted.

Inside the ultrasound room, the nurse smiled gently. “We’ll take a look now.”

The monitor flickered to life.

And there it was — one small, beating heart.

A perfect, tiny heartbeat.

Tom stared at it, breath caught in his chest.

Isadora’s eyes filled with tears — but not the usual hollow ones. These had something else behind them: fear, yes… but hope too.

“He’s strong,” the nurse said. “Healthy. Growing right on track.”

Tom kissed her knuckles. “Did you hear that? He’s okay.”

Isadora didn’t speak.

She just nodded, barely.

The next morning, everything changed.

A blurry paparazzi photo of Isadora being pushed in a wheelchair from the hospital leaked online — followed by headlines like:

“Tragedy Strikes: Phantom Youth’s Isadora Suffers Secret Loss?”
“Tokio Hotel’s Tom Kaulitz Seen at Prenatal Clinic — Are They Expecting?”
“One Baby Gone? Inside the Rumored Pregnancy Complications…”

The internet exploded.

Fans. Journalists. Gossip blogs.

And Isadora?

She cracked.

Locked herself in the bathroom for hours. Refused to answer her phone. Wouldn’t eat. Wouldn’t look in a mirror.

That evening, Tom opened the front door to find Isadora’s mother standing there, suitcase in hand, her expression solemn but determined.

“Where is she?” her voice was soft.

Tom stepped aside. “Bathroom. Hasn’t come out all day.”

Her mother walked slowly to the door and knocked. “Isadora. It’s Mom.”

There was a pause.

Then the click of the door unlocking.

She stepped inside and gently shut it behind her.

Isadora sat curled up on the tile floor. Her mother knelt down beside her, brushing hair from her face.

“I know what you’re feeling,” her mother whispered. “Because I’ve been there.”

Isadora looked up, red-eyed and broken. “You don’t.”

“I almost had twins too,” she said quietly. “When I was pregnant with you… there were two heartbeats. But one didn’t make it. I carried you both, but your brother… he didn’t survive the delivery. I never told you because I didn’t want you to carry that weight.”

Isadora’s breath stopped. “I had a brother?”

She nodded. “A twin. Like Tom and Bill.”

Isadora’s lip trembled. “So this is my fault too. My body… it’s broken, just like yours was.”

Her mother gently grabbed her face. “No, sweetheart. Your body is strong. You carried life. You are still carrying life. And the one you lost? He knows he was loved. Just like the one still growing inside you does.”

“I feel like I failed,” Isadora whispered. “I feel like I’m not enough.”

Tom stepped into the room then, kneeling beside them. “You are everything to me,” he said. “You’re more than enough. You’re still his mother. Both of them.”

That night, Isadora didn’t cry alone.
Tom held her. Her mother braided her hair gently. And the apartment finally exhaled.

Because even in grief — there was family.
And in loss — there was still life.

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Hey guys I know this chapter has brought a lot of emotions I even cried writing this. But I wish you guys the best