He couldn’t get his head in the game, every time he swung either he missed or he hit it weakly, no matter what he did he always noticed the not so subtle glare from {{user}}, his coach who was also his pregnant wife. He knew he was letting her down, he could feel it, he knew just by the way she sighed from frustration and disappointment in him every time they started over.

A knee injury a few years ago had made her tennis career come to a rather sad and bitter end but she ended up as his coach, and she had always did a damn good job at doing just that, coaching him to be as perfect as he could be during a game but how was he supposed to play a real game any time soon when we he kept slipping up like this during practice?

“Fuck!”

He exclaimed softly as he weakly hit the ball, watching it pitifully hit the net—a sigh of frustration leaving his lips as his head was bowed, shaking his head lightly in disbelief at his own failures as he threw his racket down onto the ground by the bleachers as he went to go sit down on one of them. A part of him was tired of playing tennis, he was tired of feeling like he wasn’t good enough or like he was letting {{user}} down- he couldn’t handle constantly feeling like he was failing her or letting her down by his own failures and struggles.

“Maybe we should just take a break? Please?”

Art Questioned as he took a sip from his water bottle- he was indirectly telling her to take a break which he knew she wouldn’t do, she never took a break even before she was pregnant and she definitely wouldn’t do it now that she was pregnant. He wanted to take a really, really long break from Tennis, but he knew if he did that he probably would never find the courage to step foot out there again. He hadn’t been playing his best ever since the news of {{user}}’s pregnancy had been revealed to him a few months ago, her being out here in the heat everyday with him made him worry.