"I think about everything." Camille started making playful noises, wanting attention, so I got her up and put her in her high chair, giving her a bottle of formula to drink. I went to the dance studio that morning to clear my head, and found that this helped a lot, especially when I got back home each day. A week of doing dance had toned my muscles and I felt more energized than ever. Mason had completely stopped doing his chore, but at the moment it wasn't too bad. At the end of the week, I took Camille down to the clinic for her monthly checkup, as she was now four months old. She loved all the attention she was getting, and was especially interested in the small giraffe she was given by the nurse. We returned home and I was making dinner, going to get a plate from the cupboard when I noticed the sink was full of dishes. Mason still hadn't done them, despite me asking him that very morning to do it before he went to work. It had reached two weeks now. He's never been this bad, I thought as I chopped up the vegetables. He came home ten minutes later and went straight onto the laptop that was sitting on the dinner table, not even bothering to come say hi to me.

"How was your day?" I asked unemotionally. He glanced up at me before he answered.

"Alright. How long till dinner?"

"I don't know. How long do you want it to be?" I asked in the same tone. He shrugged and I rolled my eyes. I didn't know what to say next, so there was just quietness between us. Well, until he asked a really stupid question.

"Why are you angry? Is it because we haven't had sex for ages?" he asked moodily, glancing up at me again. My jaw dropped as I threw the vegetables into the pot on the stove.

"No, it's got nothing to do with sex! I asked you to do one simple thing every night and you haven't done it for over two weeks!" I snapped. He thought for a moment what this one simple thing was and then remembered.

"I've been working. You could've done it," he said in defense.

"'I've been working,'" I mocked him, "it's your job to do them!"

"So? Maybe you could make yourself useful for once-"

"Useful? Are you telling me I'm useless?" I yelled.

"Maybe. I've been busy, earning the only income we have at the moment. What are you doing when I'm not here?"

"How about looking after your child? I've noticed you haven't offered help in THAT department for a while either!"

"Well I've noticed you've been eating a whole lot moreā€¦ our grocery expenses have almost doubled!" he said loudly. I dropped the knife to the bench.

"And!" Right now, I didn't want to tell him the reason behind that. I looked shakily down at my left hand, to the ring that bared it. Why are we arguing again, I agreed to marry him! Is this just one more mistake? I looked up to see a particular look form in his eyes and I told him to not even dare come near me. But he didn't listen to me. He took a step forward and my hand automatically reached for the knife. He stopped when he saw it and raised an eyebrow.

"You wouldn't," he said, angry. I knew what his intentions were, and I didn't want to fulfill them.

"Try me," I replied in the same tone and he took one more step towards me as I screamed for him to not come near me. I then heard crying and realized I'd woken up Camille. Fantastic. He almost moved again when I leaned on the bench top, right on the hot plate.

"ARGH FUCK!" I yelled, dropping the knife and holding my hand. Mason stood frozen at what had just happened and I went over to the sink. Camille was getting louder now. I turned the water on but surprise surprise, I couldn't fit my hand under it because there were dishes piled messily in it. I took hold of the first one and tossed it across the bench-top to my left. It hit the wall and chipped immensely. I did the same with a few more and some broke but I didn't care as I let the cold water run over my hand, shuddering relief. Mason had disappeared into the bedroom to sooth Camille down, and a few minutes later the apartment was silent again. I retrieved an ice pack from the freezer and held it against my hand, Mason coming back out.

"I'll be back later," he said moodily before storming out the door. Acting like a five year old, I thought as I looked out the window and watched him get in his car and drive off. I rolled my eyes and slumped down against the cupboard doors in front of the sink.

"What the hell?" I asked myself, unable to think of a reasonable explanation to what had just happened. I could feel the coldness of the ice pack on my hand now, so I reached up for the tea towel that was next to me and pulled on it, which was a stupid idea. It was caught under a saucepan which had other, smaller pots in it, and when I pulled on it, it brought that saucepan down with it, onto my ankle. I cried out in pain and realized I'd most likely sprained it as it was a heavy saucepan and so were the pots and they fell rather fast. I held onto my foot, tears stinging my eyes as I tried to breathe. I still didn't know how to tell Mason that I was indeed pregnant again, especially not after the fight we'd just had. All my extra food-eating was a result of this, they were cravings and I hadn't even detected them as being cravings. I didn't want another child yet, and I spent most of the night thinking through an argument that was suitable for when I told Mason, as I knew he would object to my decision. That, and along with being worried, nervous, and lastly, in a lot pain. I was almost asleep at one am when I heard keys in the door. I didn't bother to look up and he must've spotted me because he rushed over to me, thinking I was hurt or something.

"Demi," he said quietly, placing a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off and looked the other way, refusing to look at him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

"Of course I'm fine, I had an argument with you and hurt myself badly. I've never been better," I said sharply and he groaned. He went to pick me up but I pushed his hands away.

"You need rest," he pointed out, so instead of letting him pick me up, I tried to stand, which resulted in me collapsing and howling in pain, holding onto the bench to support myself. I then felt his arms around my legs and back as he picked me up, and I told him to put me down, despite that doing that wouldn't be of any help to me, and he didn't let me go. I felt so comfortable in his arms, and I almost rested my head on his shoulder when I remembered what had caused this and how much I had been hurt by his words. He put me down on the bed and I almost fell asleep when I remembered I had something to say. If I didn't say it now, I wasn't sure when an appropriate time would come up again.

"Demi, I honestly don't know what I was-" I rolled over and stared at him.

"I'm pregnant." He froze and I saw his eyes widen in the moonlight.

"W-what?" he asked nervously.