My feet ached as I walked up the steps to the apartment complex. I opened the door and walked up more steps to the apartment. Finally inside, I closed the door behind me and sank into the old brown couch that was just as comfortable as it was ugly. My eyes closed as I leaned my head back and breathed in for what felt like the first time in hours.

I heard footsteps behind me. "Hey, you."

I turned around and a wide smile spread on my face. "Hey."

Maggie walked around the couch and kissed me. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto the couch.

We spent a lot of time just being close to each other. Conversation wasn't necessary, closeness was enough. Sometimes our hands were clasped together, sometimes my head was in her lap or hers in mine, and sometimes we became so tangled together I hardly knew which limbs were whose.

Today, though, she twisted out of my arms. "Listen, I love you but I'm making dinner and unless you want burnt tortellini, I'll be right back."

I sighed with dramatic exasperation. "The sacrifices I make for tortellini," I said.

She rolled her eyes and I listened to her footsteps grow fainter and fainter as she walked to the kitchen.

I picked up the remote and scrolled through the channels but nothing looked interesting. Admittedly, that was partially my fault because it was me who suggested we splurge on weekly Pilates instead of cable. Not my proudest move.

Restless, I got up and wandered towards the kitchen. "Hey Mags, do you know if it's too late to cancel-"

I rounded the corner and stopped short. The kitchen table had been set up with a red tablecloth, china plates, and the expensive wine glasses that were reserved for company. A bouquet of deep blue flowers stood in a vase in the center and instead of lights, there were candles that illuminated the room in a soft glow. Maggie was standing next to the stove, a guilty look on her face. "Surprise?" she said sheepishly.

"Maggie. What?" My mind couldn't form complete thoughts. Usually our surprises for each other consisted of Chinese takeout and Netflix.

"Here, sit down," Maggie said, pulling out a chair.

I sat, still looking in wonder at how our shabby table-for-two had been converted into… this.

Maggie set a plate of steaming food on the table, which I smelled before I saw. My mouth watered. "This isn't tortellini," I said and grimaced because I realized how ungrateful that sounded. The truth was, I would a million times rather eat whatever this was than tortellini.

Maggie just laughed. "Chicken caltimbocca," she said, giving a small bow.

"Chicken what?"

"You'll like it, trust me." She poured me a glass of red wine and sat in the chair across from me.

I picked up a portion and took a bite. She was right, it was good. For a few minutes, neither of us said anything, too focused on eating the food in front of us.

Finally, a thought occurred to me. "What's the occasion?" I asked. My eyes widened. "Did I miss our 10 month anniversary?"

She laughed softly. "No, not at all. I just-" she paused, looking down at her plate. Her eyes darted up at me. "I felt bad."

I frowned and took a sip of wine. "Why?"

She stabbed a piece of food with her fork. "I mean, I know that you wanted kids and I don't feel great about stomping on that dream."

I swallowed. Sometimes when something bad happens, I push it down and try my best not to think about it, especially if I can't control it. And this was something I couldn't control. I knew Maggie wouldn't change her mind and I was going to marry her no matter what so what was the point in thinking about it? I clasped my hands together on my lap and smiled. "It's okay, don't worry." Let's not talk about it.

She took a bite and chewed for a moment, looking at me. "I don't want any secrets between us so if that's not okay, you need to tell me, alright?"

I nodded, maybe a little too vigorously. "I know, of course."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Babe, I'm sorry but it looks like you're trying to convince yourself here."

I wrung my hands. Don't talk about this, let's not talk about this. There is no good way this conversation can go.

"Alex?"

I looked up and realized I had been staring down at my hands. "Sorry, what?"

She dropped her fork onto her plate. "There's obviously something wrong," she said. I felt her eyes boring into me.

Nothing's wrong. This is fine. We're fine. I'm fine. I felt a tear slip down my cheek and I cursed, wiping it away quickly.

"Sorry," I said but my voice broke and I felt another tear fall and then another. I put my head in my hands.

I heard Maggie's chair scrape against the floor and a second later her arms wrapped around me. "You're okay," she said, rubbing my shoulders.

More tears slipped down my cheeks and I took a shaky breath. I'm okay. But I wasn't. I'm not.

Maggie led me to the ugly brown couch, her arms still around me. We sat down together and she let go. I shivered and wished she would hold me again. She crossed her legs and faced me.

"Tell me what's wrong," she said.

My lower lip was quivering and I bit down on it. I took a shaky breath and looked up at her through watery eyes.

"I want kids," I said. My voice wasn't strong but it was clear, non-apologetic.

Maggie sighed and leaned back into the couch, staring not at me, but at the ceiling above us. She sat like that for a few minutes.

"I know you're not into the idea but if you'd give it some time, think about it…" my voice trailed off.

She took a deep breath. "I'm not having kids, Maggie." She finally turned to look at me. "I'm not. There's nothing to be said"

"Listen, you don't have to carry them. You don't have to do anything. I'll be the one to-"

She stood up suddenly and I jumped. "I don't have to do anything?" Her voice was cold. "I don't have to do anything?"

"Maggie, no, that's not what I meant-"

"No!" she snapped. A deep breath. "Shit, Alex, I'm sorry but I know exactly what you meant." She started pacing the room, running her hands through her hair. "You think that after how I was raised, I would want to co-raise a child with you by not doing anything? By propping my feet up and letting you raise a child by yourself? I'm not cruel, Alex, I would never, ever do that to a child."

I sank further into the couch. That wasn't what I meant to say but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that maybe Maggie was right, that I did think it would be like that.

"Then what's the problem?" I asked cautiously.

She stopped pacing for a moment and sat next to me again on the couch. "Listen," she said. "It has nothing to do with having shitty parents. It has nothing to do with me not wanting to carry a child. I just don't want to raise a kid and I'm sorry but I don't understand why you do." She cupped her hand under my cheek and looked into my eyes. "I love you."

I pushed her hand away. My heart thumped harder in my chest. "And I love you. You know I love you." I started wringing my hands again. "But I want a kid. I want to love them and teach them to love others and how to read. I want to take care of them when their sick and help them with algebra." I looked at her. "I want to hold them and I want them to be ours." Tears had started streaming down my cheeks but I didn't wipe them away.

"I want a kid, Maggie."

Maggie stared at me for a long time. I wished I could tell what she was thinking. After minutes that stretched for an eternity, she got up and walked into our bedroom. I stood up, unsure what to do. "Maggie?"

She came out a minute later with a duffel bag in her hand.

"Here," she said. Her face showed no emotion.

"No, no, no, Maggie," I shook my head in disbelief, wondering how it all went so wrong, so fast.

She took the duffel bag and set it down outside the door, stood expectantly by it. Waiting.

Waiting for me to leave.

"Maggie, you're not letting yourself feel." Her expression remained still, her eyes fixed on a point far away in the distance.

"Maggie!" I wanted to slap her, kiss her, run towards her but my feet were stuck. I tried as hard as I could not to sob.

She turned and looked at me. "I can't do this to you Alex." Some emotion I couldn't recognize flashed in her eyes. "Goodbye."

Somehow, for some reason, I stepped out the door. It shut behind me.

I didn't leave for a long time. I sank down and sat with my back against the door. Hoping against hope that she would open it and tell me it would be okay, that this was just another fight, that we could work this out.

But that didn't happen.

As tears slid down my face, I was joined by muffled sobs from behind the door.

Most wounds hurt. Some sting, some ache.

Some leave you torn apart and empty, so much that you can never quite heal.

And you're never the same person you were before.