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Rule Number Fifty-Six: What was meant to be, will be.

My eyes opened and when they were met with the same room that I had been in for days. I hoped that it was a nightmare that I was in and not my real life. I hoped that it was a horrible reoccurring dream that wouldn't let me go.

But it wasn't.

The IV bag hung above me, pushing medicine into my body. My body. With absolutely nothing inside of it.

Having a miscarriage at the end of your second trimester wasn't unheard of.  But it wasn't something you thought of either.

My hospital room was empty besides Harry's lone figure in the corner of the room fast asleep in a chair. His mouth slightly open, his hair was tied back and his hoodie was close to his chin. His worn leather boots hung over the edge of the chair and despite looking care free he was stressed beyond belief.

No one wanted to be near me because I was volatile. Pain was like gasoline to my heart and I couldn't bare the thought of having lost my child.

My family hung around in the waiting room and the only other person that could make their way in was Tom. And so him and Harry took shifts.

It was ironic. Two men sharing the mess they so desperately loved. And both would end up incredibly hurt.

I couldn't love anyone properly. Not Harry, not Tom. And the reason why was because I didn't loved myself. I hated myself, there wasn't anything I could do right.

I had the worst luck, more so than anyone I had ever met. It was cruel joke at this point, anything I had ever loved had been ripped away.

Harry, happiness, this baby.

I wanted someone, something to take me out of my misery. I wish I would've die in that bathroom.

The door creaked open and Tom slowly peeked his head into the room. Our eyes met and I regretted ever looking to the door.

"Hey you're up" his voice croaked, bags sat under his eyes. He looked horrible, I'd been so upset that I hadn't even realized that this affected him just as much. He had lost his baby too, it wasn't just me.

I didn't bother answering him, I rolled on my back to avoid his gaze or any other conversation he might have wanted to start.

"The tests came back and the doctor wants to come speak with us shortly" he added sipping his coffee before setting it on the end table by my bed.

Once I had lost the baby they began running tests to figure out what might've happened. Part of me wanted to know, the other half couldn't care. All that it had meant was that I had lost a feeling I had been chasing for years.

A doctor shortly came in after Tom did. Harry awoke from his sleep, realizing the doctor had arrived and he excused himself. Almost as if he knew what was coming. This wasn't an occasional doctor follow up.

"How are you feeling?" The doctor asked. I wasn't sure in what sense he meant. In both ways I was completely wrecked to the core.

Tom and the doctor hesitantly waited for my answer and when it never came the doctor nodded in sympathy.

"Well we ran a few tests on the fetus, as well as yourself. And we're quite confident we know what has happened" the doctor's face became drawn in concern. My stomach dropped because I knew it wasn't good.

He looked down at his folder to gather his thoughts.

"What is it?" Tom pressed from the chair by my bed.

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