Page 34 of Only ever you-Ana & Byron (Blindsided #2)

B yron helped Ana dress, kissed her forehead, and whispered, "I'll call Cadi." He left for a moment.

Then, the consultant began speaking. He waited patiently until Cadi got there and then held Ana's eyes when he started speaking.

Cadi nodded at the consultant and listened carefully . Her eyes were wet as he explained things.

Ana couldn't catch every word. Her ears were buzzing, but snatches made it through

"...prenatal abdominal and transvaginal ultrasound..."

"...absence of urinary bladder and kidneys..."

"...bilateral renal agenesis..."

"...discoid adrenal glands..."

"...no renal artery was visualised..."

"...likely Potter's sequence... not compatible with life."

The words "not compatible with life" seemed to echo in her ears.

Ana's hand crushed Byron's. He didn't let go .

"I have just been on the phone with one of our paediatricians," the sonologist added gently. "He has an interest in genetics. He's on his way down if you'd like to talk to him now. If you want to reschedule until you have had time to absorb..."

Ana shook her head before he could finish.

Then, "No. No, we want to know."

The paediatrician was kind-eyed, middle-aged and soft-spoken. He pulled up a chair.

"I'm so sorry," he said first. "What we're looking at is likely a condition called Potter's syndrome."

He explained slowly, as if giving them time to absorb what he was saying, "Renal agenesis leading to oligohydramnios means the kidneys have not developed and there is not enough fluid surrounding the baby.

This condition is also associated with underdeveloped lungs.

A congenital heart defect has been picked up on the scan, in your child's case, likely a condition called Tetralogy of Fallot.”

"There's usually a high chance of first-trimester loss," he said. "But sometimes, like here... it progresses longer."

Ana cleared her throat to ask the question that had been haunting her, "Is it something I did?"

The doctor met her eyes. "Ms. Bartolini, this has nothing to do with your surgery. Or anything you took or didn't take. This is likely to be sporadic. We can do genetic testing to be sure, but until proven otherwise... please, don't blame yourself or your partner. It is neither your fault nor his."

***

They went home in a fog.

Byron reheated the carrot soup. He placed a warm mug in her hands.

Ana stared at it. "I thought... I thought finally our luck was changing. "

Byron's voice was rough. "It's not your fault. None of it."

She didn't argue, but she didn't agree.

"We've got an appointment tomorrow with the GP for bloods," Byron said. "But I think we should go private. NHS takes ages."

Ana nodded wearily. "Fine."

They slept after lying awake for the longest time, curled around each other in silence.

***

Over the next days, Ana had test after test. Blood work. Karyotyping. She worked limited hours from home, logged off early, lay on the sofa and barely spoke.

Byron checked on her constantly, the dark circles around his eyes betraying his worry. She barely noticed. She was still digesting all the information.

The bleeding started the day before their follow-up. Their baby was 21 weeks old

They rushed to A&E. Byron got a lot of stares, but no one approached. A young emergency doctor met them, pale and twitchy after a long shift, clearly uncomfortable. He fetched the on-call gynaecologist promptly, a silver-haired gentleman with a tired but kind face.

He guided them to a curtained cubicle and sat on the uncomfortable vinyl chair next to the bed.

"I'm sorry," he said. "With the bleeding and everything we know about the baby's anomalies... I believe nature is taking its course. We would have expected this to happen in the first trimester."

Ana nodded, dazed.

"This isn't the conversation I want to be having," he added gently. "But in this case... even if he lived... his life would have been very hard."

Ana's voice cracked. "Fine. "

Byron and Cadi stayed with her. But when the worst began, Ana looked at Cadi and said, "Go home. Please."

Cadi wanted to stay, but finally gave in. She kissed Ana’s forehead and squeezed Byron’s shoulder before leaving.

Hours passed.

When it was over, Ana whispered, "I want to see him."

They wrapped the tiny body in a soft hospital blanket. A nurse brought him in, cradled with the care one would give a priceless gift.

Ana wept silently. Byron's eyes glistened.

"He's hardly as big as a banana," Ana whispered, running a fingertip down the small, still face.

She kissed his forehead.

"I'd like for him to be cremated," she said.

Byron nodded, voice breaking. "Of course."

"Let’s name him Conley like we planned," Ana said later, as they drove home "A-B-C. He was our beginning in many ways."

***

They brought home a tiny urn.

Ana placed it on the mantle of the fireplace. Byron didn't move it.

Two weeks passed.

After spending almost one week entirely in bed, Ana slowly started getting out when Byron got ready to hit the gym in the morning. He insisted he needed her at practice and his games.

She still hadn't gone back to full-time work, but she attended Byron's matches. Said nothing, just sat in the crowd with her coat wrapped tight around her.

One morning over breakfast, Ana stirred her tea and said out of the blue, "Can we buy a farmhouse?"

Byron blinked. "What?"

"A farmhouse," she repeated. "With land. Somewhere quieter. Maybe in Wales. "

He nodded. "Yeah. We can."

They toured a few places. One was too drafty, another too modern. But then came a place just outside Manchester. A renovated stone house on rolling land, with an ancient oak standing watch on a hill.

Ana touched Byron's sleeve and asked, "Do you think we can put a plaque by the tree?"

"You can have whatever you want," Byron said gently, his massive arm circling her visibly thinner shoulders.

They moved in two months later. The house was open plan with a large floor full- length window and wood-burning stone fireplaces.

The evening of the move, they sat at the breakfast nook, hands around warm mugs.

Ana said, "I think Conley hung around to see me through the surgery. It was he , more than anything, that made me want to fix my things."

Byron nodded, soft hazel eyes on her. "You heard what the doctor said. It likely would've ended in the first trimester. But he stayed."

Ana reached for his hand. "Maybe to say goodbye. And to hold my hand while I stopped being a coward."

He squeezed it gently.

There was silence as they sipped their coffee.

Then she said, softly, "Let's inaugurate the bedroom."

Byron paused, eyes searching hers, uncertain whether she meant whether this was about want or pain or needing to feel something other than grief. It had been a while since they had been intimate.

But she stood and held out her hand.

In the quiet light of their new bedroom, Ana undid the buttons of her blouse slowly. Her fingers trembled, and Byron reached out, brushing the fabric from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. He kissed the pale scar at the base of her neck, then her collarbone, then lower, reverently.

His own shirt followed, peeled away and tossed aside. Her hands were at his waist now, slipping beneath the band of his trousers, tugging them down with silent insistence. They undressed each other slowly until they were skin to skin after what felt like a lifetime of distance.

When he opened the drawer for the condoms, she stopped him with a hand to his wrist.

"No," she said. Her voice was low, but sure. "I want to feel all of you."

Byron's eyes flicked up to hers. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He kissed her then, deeply. Slowly.

And when they lay down, it wasn't urgent or frantic.

It was a language of grief and of promises renewed not through words but through every caress and breath and sigh.

***