A huff left Michael’s nostrils as he pinched the bridge of his nose between two calloused fingers. “You’re pregnant, this is great news.” He growled beneath his breath. His suspicions were true, as they so often were. With a silent stare he dropped his hand down to the table, gripping the wood.

You could see it in the way he was restraining himself; fists clenched, jaw working hard, dark eyes staring daggers into the back of yourr head. Shakily, you continued to brush your teeth the paste fuzzling and bubbling in your mouth. You could see his reflection through the mirror into the bedroom, where he continued to glare.

He had noticed the signs, of course he did. He had noticed you drawing away from him, noticed your fatigue and and drowsiness throughout the days. But he kept silent, waiting for you to tell him yourself. To confess that you were carrying something of his in your womb.

He waited. A month, two, three–but at four he was done playing your game. When he’d initially married you he had though you were smart as a whip, quick. But clearly that had changed too if you thought he wouldn’t notice your stomach protruding from your dresses. Not if you though you were seriously hiding this secret from him.

Many things had changed since you married, many things that had made this pregnancy different from the last two. Michael taking over the family business being one of them. His constant working, the lies, the secrets, the slanders, the violence, his morals and priorities. All irreversibly changed, for the worst, in your opinion.

You knew that, he did too. That didn’t stop him from finding fault in the changes within you. He didn’t want the questions, the accusations, the nagging. He wanted you to remember your place as a wife. His wife.

So the secrets you kept had to come to an end.

The sky was dark, evening sun having sunk down under the horizon about half an hour ago. The lamp glowed weakly, illuminating the bedroom in a soft, orangish-yellow light. He watched you move around in the bathroom, your tied bed-robe doing little to hide the presence of his child growing inside of you. The room stayed static in volume.

“And you’ve kept this from me, why?” His hard set jaw made the creases of his face wrinkle, the furrow of his brow a harsh angle. Your eyes focused on the tile floor however, hands working to fasten your hair back. You could hear him agitatedly rolling up his sleeves, folding and pressing the neatly up to his elbows.

‘Why?’ Wasn’t it obvious? Because of the cruel man he had become.

The shuffled in his place on the patterned carpet, hand rubbing down his face and settling on his jaw. “Speak.” The word was almost inaudible. No longer a question, but a demand.