"Mon frère and Mercy, they tried for a while to have a baby," he says quietly. "She cried all the time."
Her heart clenches and Rogue reaches out, needing to touch him and ground herself.
He looks at her, dark eyes burning. "It's one thing to read on paper, thirty-five percent live birth rate. It's another thing to lose your child."
"They—" she starts to ask, but no words come.
His eyes soften. He comes to her and holds her.