I always kept the button in my pocket, for special occasions. One second isn't that much after all, but one never knows when it could be useful. I used it for minute things mostly. Maybe I burned my finger, or answered a trivia question wrong. It didn't have much practical use, but it was pretty cool. That is what my wife said. "It's nice and all, but you need to find something worthwhile to use it on!"
She was probably right, but one second couldn't make any difference.
I arrived home from the lab, button in my coat pocket, and opened the door, expecting the familiar smell of stew, or a steak perhaps, her steaks were always the best. When I entered, it was dark and silent, save for the soft glow of the television in the other room. I walked in, and saw her eyes glazed over, absentmindedly watching some reality show.
"Hey," I said, "what's up? Should I order a pizza or something?"
She looked at me, startled, and turned back to the television. Her hair was in a messy bun, the streaks of grey only accentuating her beauty. But the wrinkles on her face didn't form their usual tired smile, the quiet happiness found in suburban utopia.
"I'm sorry, I just haven't had the greatest day," she replied.
I noticed on the table an official looking document. I walked over to it, and picked it up. It was the results.
"Oh." I said.
"Yeah." she said.
I was sterile, officially at least. We'd been trying for nearly twenty years, with no hope. We had always thought it was because we married late, didn't bother with any of the pseudo-pregnancy enhancers.
"I - I don't know what to say." I said.
She just looked sadly at me, then back at the television.
"I just... I don't know. This is all I've wanted, since I can remember."
She stood up, and made her way upstairs. I grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, and sat at the counter. Sterile? How could it be possible? I was shocked. Me? Of all people... Me? I discovered time travel! I've broken the laws of goddamn quantam physics... and I can't have a kid. I coughed. I heard rattling upstairs, but I ignored it. She was understandably upset. I failed her.
Surely there's something I can do? Not with money, obviously, but maybe we can take a roadtrip, explore our relationship. We'll get through this. I heard her make her down the stairs, each step followed by a clack. I walked into the foyer.
She stood with a suitcase and her car keys.
"I can't. I just can't. I love you with all my heart... but between this and your work... I never see you. I don't know you."
I was floored.
"You don't mean that! This is a setback, but we can adapt, we always have! We can adopt a child, or have a surrogate!"
"You don't get it. I want it to be ours, not someone else's. It needs to be mine, don't you get it? It... it just has to. Look... I'll keep in touch, but only so we can try to keep this split... unmessy. But this just isn't going to work anymore."
"Where is this coming from?" I asked.
"This is a build-up, don't you get it? It's been years since we've done anything together, we never go anywhere for the holidays, I never see my friends because I'm busy making your damn dinner every night."
She collected herself, and continued.
"This just isn't right for me or you, I think you know that. This isn't meant to be, God didn't destine us for each other."
I didn't respond. She awkwardly brushed the hair from her face.
"This can't work. It never could like this. I love you."
She walked out the front door. I felt my hand instantly press the button.
"I love you, good-"
I pressed it again.
"I love you,"
Again.
"I love you,"
Again.
"I love you,"
"I love you,"
"I love you,"
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