"Are you okay?" It was a stupid thing to say, and I knew it, but it was something to fill the silence. He had been standing on my front porch for 10 minutes before I finally came to the door. He hadn't knocked. He hadn't done anything to alert anyone to his presence. I had watched his car pull into the driveway from my window. Watched him haul out the cardboard box that I could only assume was filled with our memories, all the things that he had accumulated of mine over the last 16 years. Wasn't it just yesterday he had waltzed into my life? The rugged bandit, with wild black hair, an unwavering passion for baseball, and eyes only for me.
Over time things had changed. Somewhere along the way we started to become different people, people that maybe weren't as right for each other as we thought we were. People who maybe weren't as in love with each other as they thought they were.
"I'm fine," his voice was tired and I was sorry for him, sorry for how everything had turned out between us. No matter how hard this was for me, I knew it was that much harder for him. I was losing my best friend; he was losing the love of his life.
"I brought you your things," he shifted the box in his hands and motioned his head towards the door, "I can bring it in for you, if you'd like. It's a little heavy."
"No, that's fine. I'll take it," I reached out, clumsily taking the box from his arms, the edges firmly pressing into my bare skin.
"Oh, is he here?" An accusation. I sighed, tired.
"Please, don't start."
"Don't start what?" he scowled, his face contorting in pent up anger and hurt, "He'll never love you, Bulma. He'll never be able to give you what we had. How can you not see that?"
I could feel my heartbeat quicken as he spoke, his words like salt, licking at my uncertainties. It was always there, in the back of my mind, that I had made the wrong decision. I had cheated, yes, I knew that. But what I felt for Vegeta was real, and I couldn't ignore that fact any longer. Besides, it wasn't like I was the only one at fault here.
"You seemed more than eager to give away what we had on more than one occasion, if I remember correctly," my tone was mocking, and I instantly regretted it. I didn't want to fight with him anymore. There was no point. We had both made mistakes and it wasn't fair to keep throwing his back in his face.
"I was stupid. There was never anyone else and you know that. It was only ever you, Bulma. It's always gonna be you." His voice was high now, pleading, and it broke my heart all over again to hear it.
"Yamcha I'm pregnant." He took a step back, eyes wide and he looked for all the world as if I had slapped him. I imagined, in some sick metaphorical way, that it was a slap. A slap to his pride, to our past, to him.
"What?" Breathless, barely above a whisper.
"I'm pregnant.," I clarified, my voice shaking in spite of myself. My eyes searched his. Confusion. Denial. Doubt. I knew what he was thinking, what he was waiting for me to say next, "It's Vegeta's. We're keeping it."