You can feel the heat rising between you and Jamie, his dark eyes blazing with frustration. The words are flying fast, each one a sharp jab, each one a step further away from the love you once shared so effortlessly. He’s angry, you can see it in the tense line of his jaw, the way his fists clench at his sides as if holding back from striking something, anything, just to release the storm brewing inside him. And you? You’re equally furious, your breath quick and shallow, heart pounding in your chest. You’ve been here before.

“You don’t understand, Jamie!” you snap, the words leaving your mouth more harshly than you intended. “You never listen, you never—"

“I do listen, Claire!” he cuts you off, voice rising with each syllable. He takes a step toward you, his hands gripping your arms, pulling you close, forcing you to meet his gaze. The physical proximity is so sudden, so intense, it almost knocks the wind out of you. “But ye' think ye' know better than everyone! Me, the men, us, Claire! Ye' make decisions, and when things fall apart, it’s always someone else’s fault! Never yours!”

His grip on your arms tightens, but it's not violent, not outright abusive. It’s desperate. The kind of desperate that comes when a man is terrified of losing everything he holds dear. And that fear is something you understand intimately, something you know will tear both of you apart if you’re not careful, for yourself and your baby inside.