Earlier, she was having trouble with how much the pregnancy restricted what she could do. I pointed out that all I could do was sit on the sidelines, and I felt helpless, in a way, since I can't care for Isabel the way she can. I didn't need to have that hammered home, and yet, that's what happened.
I thought I was going to lose her. I'd been arguing with her to get her to go, I asked her "Please, let me be overprotective" - she refused, then caved in once the trouble breathing started.
She started spitting up blood at the hospital. When I went to get her things, I came back, and she was being given oxygen. Then she fell in the bathroom, right after she told me I should go out with the squad on our case.
Later, she wasn't better, and then, when I was looking right at her, she stopped breathing. She just stopped. She...just...stopped, and I knew I was losing her, losing them both.
She said she wanted me to carry on if something happened to her, to Isabel. I told her the truth...that it would be impossible. Even if I didn't do it myself, I'd be a walking dead man until I walked into the path of a car or a bullet.
Three months ago, I didn't know her. Three months ago, Isabel didn't exist. Now, if things go back to the way they were, three months ago, no Millie, no Isa, I don't know how I'd live - or why I'd want to.