From Another Spere

“Ketan, don’t be upset.”
He went on staring at the wall behind me. I looked intently into his large brown eyes that were staring right through me. His muscles were taunt across his broad cheek bones and his jaw was set hard. Deep creases lay across his brow. He was trying to hold in his feelings, just like he always did, but like always, I could see right through him. His eyes had that searching look as he tried to find something to take his mind away from his intense emotions.
“Honey, everything will be okay.” I used my most soothing tone, the only one that would have an effect when he was like this.
“Don’t worry.” I continued, “The baby will be fine. You will be fine. You’ll be able to work things out, just like you always have.”
He got up suddenly and strode across the room toward the wall that he’d been staring at. I realized that he’d been looking at the picture of us that hung over our brown second-hand sofa. The photo was taken shortly before our wedding. I was wearing a cream form-fitted sweater over my slender pre-pregnancy figure, and I sat leaning against my husband’s strong chest. He sat behind me in a deep brown sweater with his arms wrapped around me. Of all our photos, I liked this one the best. We looked so happy and comfortable together.
Ketan stood in front of the picture for several seconds with the same intense look on his face. I waited tensely, wondering what he would do next. Suddenly he grabbed the picture, almost violently, then wrapped his arms around it and hugged it to his chest. A sob broke from his throat, and the tension in his face crumpled into a mask of despair. He sunk to his knees on the couch, curling his body around the picture as tears began to stream down his face. I’d seen him tear up before when his emotions overcame him, but I had never seen him cry so desperately. I hurried over to him and put my arms around him.
“Why?” His voice was strangled by his sobs and his words were barely discernable. “Why did you leave me?”
“I didn’t leave you.” My heart ached for my husband’s sorrow, and I cried out desperately trying to sooth him. “I’m still here. You just can’t see me now, but I’ll always be here. I promise.”
He continued to sob, and I continued to hold him. An hour passed tortuously as I sought hopelessly to console him. Eventually his tears subsided, and I noticed that his breathing had deepened. The tension eased from his muscles. I was relieved that he had finally fallen asleep. I continued to hold him, hoping that somehow he would sense my presence.
“Don’t worry.” I said again, this time whispering softly in his ear. “Everything will be okay. I love you.”
A smile tickled his mouth for a moment. He’d heard.