Lacuna

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Lacuna; (a) blank space, a missing part


2026, Toronto Canada

It had been a strange couple of days. Shawn had been distant to say the least; he was acting different and somehow, he seemed hard to reach. He had barely been eating nor had he left the flat for more than an hour at a time and the thing that worried you the most, he hadn't picked up his guitar in a week.

Shawn barely listened when you spoke and he had trouble focusing on little daily tasks. You had been worried but Shawn had always been the person to handle everything himself - if he wanted your help, he would ask for it - so you hadn't been pushing him to tell you just yet. You figured he would come when he was ready to share whatever weight he was carrying around on his shoulders.

Therefore, it wasn't a big surprise to you when you had turned in the bed, reaching for him only to find his side of the covers empty and untouched.

Pushing yourself up to sit, you rubbed your sore eyes before gaining back your blurry vision. Gazing over your shoulders, the clock hanging on the wall told you, he should have gone to bed hours ago.

You swung your heavy legs out of the side and let your feet touch the cold floor underneath. Dragging your sleepy body across the wooden floor, you made your way through the flat; room by room until you heard small but unrecognizable noises from the living room.

You walked past the room neither Shawn nor you had sat your feet in after that day. The room, that still made it run coldly down your spine and forced a lump to get stuck in your throat.

Her room.

Something caught your eyes this time, something you found rather odd. The door was gaping open - it was just a tiny bit - but it was open. It was never open. I hadn't been open for months.

You couldn't bare to look at the painted animals on the wall, the stars hanging from the ceiling or the little white crib with her name on it. Not when she wasn't here to use it.

It was simply too painful; and by not changing nor touching a thing it felt like a part of her was still here.

Quickly, you shut the door again.

It had been a year and four months exactly since Shawn and you lost your little baby girl and it had been the hardest year and four months in your entire life. Though, you had miscarried in the early stage of your pregnancy; no one really prepares you for the wave of pain that is going to hit you full force and drown you alive slowly.

That's what it felt like to you - the pain of losing something you had carried around inside your stomach, the little life you and your husband had made together - it felt like you were suffocating in your own worst nightmare.

Shawn had been the strong one; holding you tight at three in the morning when the tears wouldn't stop running and your chest was pounding so hard you couldn't breathe.

You knew he was hurting too but he was strong for you. He had always been strong for you. In all the years of your marriage Shawn had been your rock, your own private superhero. You had leaned on him whenever your world had fallen apart and he had always been there to catch you and carry the weight for you.

"What are you doing in the dark, baby?" you asked, letting your feet sway across the floor.

Shawn was sitting on the floor in the corner of the living room with a little purple box between his legs.

Her little purple box.

You had collected all the things Shawn and your families had bought for her; Karen had brought you one of Aaliyah's old aprons that Shawn had painted on. Your mother had gone shopping with you and found the smallest purple baby suit possible.

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