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"Have you thought about... names yet?"
Gloria gave no reaction to her husband's question, continuing to thread a thin needle through the hem of fabric in her lap. Her dresses were needing more and more adjustments nowadays—a fact she was consistently reminded of by the flurry of kicks in her ever-growing belly. But it wouldn't do to go out and buy a completely new and temporary wardrobe when she could easily tailor what she already had herself. She chewed her bottom lip, squinting as the silence stretched on a bit too long. She could hear Bruno shifting from foot to foot.
"I’ll, uh... take that as a no, then?"
"I'd rather have a good look at them before deciding on a name."
"Oh. Yeah, I suppose that makes sense." After another moment of quiet, Gloria sighed, feeling an irrational flare of annoyance at her husband's continued hovering. She had grown uncomfortably familiar with these instances of irritability as her pregnancy progressed, and was more than ready to have the child, so that her hormones would eventually return to a more manageable level.
"Come and sit." She neatly set aside her work and patted the unoccupied sofa cushion beside her. Bruno nodded sheepishly, sidling up and taking the offer with careful movements.
"What did you really want to talk to me about?" She asked bluntly, raising an eyebrow. It was best to cut straight to the point or they may dance around the issue for weeks. Bruno seemed to consider his words for a moment, before ultimately giving up. He scratched at his chin thoughtfully. "You've just... seemed distant, recently.” He began.
“Is something wrong? Is it something that... I did? Because if I did something wrong, then—"
She shook her head quickly. "No! No, it's... it's not you, Bruno." The weary woman ran a hand through her hair and gazed at a particularly interesting section of the wall behind her husband's left shoulder.
"I just... well..." How could she go about this? She wasn't exactly known for her tact on the best of days. And this was... a matter that certainly required sensitivity. For both their sakes. Could she lie? That path was doubtful to work. Bruno was too perceptive. He stared at her imploringly as she struggled to come up with a believable excuse for her odd behavior, each passing moment raising the tension in her brain. Eventually, she gripped the dress in her hands with white knuckles.
"... Come with me for a moment." With effort, she stood, and took Bruno's hand. They would need privacy for this discussion.
She guided him to their room, and pulled away, shuffling stiffly through the closet in apparent search for something. He couldn't get a clear look from behind, but had the sense it was something kept hidden for good reason. Strange though, as he didn’t remember her bringing much with her when the Madrigals had finally convinced her to move in.
At last, Gloria returned clutching a tiny box to her chest. She glanced up through her lashes with an unusual reluctance that made Bruno’s chest tighten with worry. He ventured a step closer, but Gloria brushed past him, making a beeline for the armchair in the corner and planting herself there firmly. He took the cue to follow. It seemed to take some time for her to gather the courage to speak again, and Bruno took the opportunity to twine his fingers with her own. If anything, this seemed to startle her back to the present and he flinched, hoping the affectionate action wasn't a misstep. With quivering breath, Gloria lifted the lid off the top of the box, and sifted its contents with a delicate touch. Bruno peered inside, brow furrowing in confusion.
Photographs.
His wife plucked one from the top and held it like something precious. "This," she said in a near-breathy voice, so unlike her usual lilting cadence. "Is Nico."
She rested a subconscious hand on her rounded belly. Bruno looked between her and the photograph as it was gently placed in his hands.
He took a moment to properly observe it.
It was grainy, and obviously worn with age, but the image was unmistakable. A small, curly haired child, perhaps no older than four, held in the arms of a much-younger Gloria. Both wore matching, carefree grins and the way their eyes crinkled was nearly identical. They were relaxed.
Happy.
He turned his head, a question on his lips before Gloria spoke again.
"I'm sorry that I've been so distant. I guess I didn't realize... well. I've had a lot to think about." She finally returned the squeeze of his hand. "I don't regret marrying you, Bruno—and it's not that I don't want our baby... but so much of this has been giving me an odd sense of Déjà vu. It's... it can be overwhelming. At times. I think of our child—but then I think of Nico as well. How much he would have loved to be a big brother..." Her voice trembled and Bruno felt a wave of understanding wash over him.
"I'm so sorry, Gloria, I... didn't know you—"
"No, it's my fault. I should've told you... it isn't right to keep secrets like that. It's unfair. To you, and to Nico." She smiled weakly, and brushed her thumb over the picture, a trail of tears dripping down her cheeks.
"Before this pregnancy, I hadn't let myself think about him in so long... and then at once, all of these memories were popping up. But I think," She took a breath. "He deserves to be remembered. As his mother, it's the least I should have done."
Bruno found himself in her arms. He was unfamiliar with his wife exhibiting this kind of vulnerability, but did his best to accommodate her sudden move. He felt her muffle a sob into his shoulder and held her closer.
"Don't worry, amor... I promise, you'll never have to lose another child. I'll protect our family, no matter what." He could hear her breath evening out, as if to listen to him closer.
"You won't be alone again."