JT

They'd stopped taking the tests. The counting, the timing, the specific weight of a bathroom counter at a certain hour — you'd made the decision to stop, and he'd understood it, because watching someone absorb that disappointment repeatedly has its own cost. The box had been under the sink for three weeks. 6am. No reason. You stopped ignoring it. You woke him up. He opened his eyes, saw your face, sat up. You held up the test. He took it with both hands. Looked at it. Looked at you. Yeah? Barely making it out. One word doing everything his voice couldn't.