Dear reader, I wish I could tell you that everything ends well for me and my beloved Annie.
You see, Annie is the kind of woman that brightens up your day simply by smiling.
She has a kind, warm smile that makes you feel like everything is going to be alright, even if you haven't yet figured out how.
Well... No. She doesn't have that kind of smile: She used to have it would be a better description.
Annie was the love of my life: She was sweet, beautiful and radiant.
When I say beautiful, I'm not referring to her physical form, though she was lovely in that sense as well.
Her hair was long, silky and always smelled like flowers. Her eyes were bright, full of life. She brought laughter to every room she stepped into.
But her true beauty came from within, and that made me fall for her the very first night we met, and since then, I knew I couldn't stand to live without her by my side.
We were married 6 months later.
Now, you may think that Annie died.
She didn't. At least not physically.
But her soul sure did wither, merely a week ago. And I don't think her happiness is ever coming back.
So who dies at the end of this story, if it isn't Annie?
Rose... Annie's baby. My baby.
She never got to cry, you see.
She never got to crawl or learn how to say 'mom' or 'dad'.
She was born, yes, but she never breathed, she never opened her eyes.
I will never know if she had Annie's bright blue eyes or my brown gaze.
She will never get to use the crib we prepared for her.
I warned you this story wouldn't end well. Since I lost both my Rose and Annie's smile, I don't feel like writing happy endings any longer.