“Yeah, she’s doing okay.” I answer my mom’s question, the telephone pressed to my ear. “You’re taking good care of her? I know the situation is hard but you have to promise me that you’re doing the best you can, Harry.” My mom asks me. I understand her concern completely.

“I know, I’m trying.” I respond, my finger twirling the wire around it as I stare at the white table the telephone is placed on. “I’m gunna go check on her, I’ll call you later.” I say, hanging up the phone.

My mom’s always been big on respect. If I ever shown a woman disrespect I think she’d disown me. I’ve shown you, my arranged wife, some disrespect but not since you fell pregnant with our child. You’re four months pregnant, not because we wanted to but because we have to.

We fight quite frequently, it’s not because I despise you. I think you’re a really nice woman and you’re pretty too, it’s just that I don’t know you. We met each other a few weeks before our wedding and we’re a year into this marriage and you’re pregnant already. Everything’s just going so quick that I can’t even find the time to try and like you, but I’ve become allot nicer since I found out you’re carrying my child and it’s working out for us.

I best go check on you.

I walk into the living room, spotting you lay back on the couch, watching TV. I sit down beside you but there’s enough space between us. “Do you need anything? You know I don’t mind picking you up if you need to go to the bathroom or something.” I joke, a small smile creeping onto my face.

I look at you to see if you liked my comment, it makes me feel better when you find me a little funny even though I’m definitely not. I feel like a pregnant woman’s validation is a special thing right now.