Kiki tells me it's going to be okay, that she's going to be right outside. I nod and wince in pain as they take me away into an operating room. The contractions are almost unbearable. Thankfully, the delivery doesn't take long. I sigh in relief and I see the nurses cleaning up my baby and wrapping it up in a blanket. Someone gently puts their hand on top of mine. I look to my side and see Ana.

"I'm sorry for what happened." She says. I don't understand what she's talking about and I guess she saw that and added, "I'm sorry about the baby."

The baby? "There's nothing wrong with him." I tell her.

She keeps on smiling, like she always did when she was patiently explaining something. "You had a miscarriage."

No...I couldn't have.

I open my mouth to tell her this but she's already walking away from me and toward the nurses. She takes the baby from them and walks over to the side of my bed. She puts the little bundle in my arms. I'm afraid to look at my dead baby.

"I'm sorry." She says again. "He would've been beautiful."

And I wake up.

The first thing that came out of my mouth: "Nikki?" I don't know why I expected him to be there. Maybe because I'm so used to him being there when I need him that I didn't think about it. That's a habit I'm going to need to break. I lie there, tangled up in a blanket and cry for a long time. I remember Nina once telling me that crying releases emotional build-up. That's why people feel better after they let it all out. But I've been crying for weeks and I don't feel any better.

After a while of crying, I suck it up. 1) because my dad could still be awake and I don't want him to walk by and see me crying. There would be too many questions. And 2) because this isn't helping any. So I calm myself down and lie there a little while longer in the dark. I randomly wonder what time it is and look over at my digital clock, squinting a little because it shows the numbers in a radioactive green.

11:58 p.m.