"I don't want that for my child."

They dug into her like a bullet. Seven short words. 'My child' stung a little more. If a word could cause a lump in the throat, that was it. She became aware of her breathing; voices began to echo out and muffle. One small swallow. Deep breath in, and back in focus.

"Like you said, Rach."

All she could do was give a small smile. In reality, it was a furious smirk that could wish someone dead. That was it, it was done. Over. Eddie was the father of her sister's child. There was no discussion to be had anymore. Discussions couldn't change the course of time.

—

Muffled TV and dim light. The redness on the walls burnt deeper tonight. The Merlot tasted richer than before. It had pain relieving qualities. The knock at the door went unnoticed. The voices on the TV were trying to drown it out. A head resting on a hand offered a position on the sofa that was far too comfy to move from. Don't move, or you'll break. The headache was pounding, but it was almost a numbness that consumed her. The knocking got louder.

"Rach, open the door." It was his voice. Full of a mix of angst, sympathy and a sense of foolishness for allowing this to happen. Their lives had blown up in their faces in a short 24 hours. He had gone from holding her tight the night before, to locked out on the doorstep in almost an instant.

Deep breath. She couldn't ignore it. The voices on the TV appeared to get quieter as his got louder. He must have been there ten minutes or so. He was persistent. His dedication was something she loved, but never did she think it would cripple her. The wine bottle lay abandoned on the side table, the light and mood still solemn. He wasn't leaving.

The lock of the door clunked and the door opened. She said nothing. She couldn't bring herself to without totally breaking down. He looked at her, and all he could see was a sadness and yearning in her eyes. Him standing there was painful enough for her, and a small smudge of her black make up still lay beside her eyes. There was a chill in the air.

"Rach." It was almost a whisper, as he slowly took a step up to the doorstep. She still stood there, not letting go of the door as if it could protect her from any more heartbreak.

"Eddie, please don't." It was all she could muster, looking down at the ground.

"We need to talk. What I said earlier… I was wrong." He said, sounding almost defeated yet determined to put things back to how they were. She went to shut him down - not aggressively, just out of care. There was no point in the discussion. But his words stopped her before she could say something utterly final - and something that she may regret. "I can't just walk away," he sighed. This was killing him too, and she knew it. She reflected on the courage it must have taken him to come here and fight for their relationship, given the circumstances.

"You're not walking away." She interjected, firm but with a gentle reassurance. She sounded just like a teacher did when you did a shit job at your school work but they attempted to reassure you otherwise. They knew you were shit, too.

"I am. From you." The frustration began to bubble. Eddie was prepared to beg on the doorstep if he needed to in order to get Rachel to listen to him.

"You've got a baby to think about."

"And I've also got you to look after."

"No you don't. I don't need looking after, Eddie." Her words stung a little. The trust was winding back in, away from him, taking them a step further back to how they were years ago. Frosty and unknown. He sighed in despair.

"Can we please just talk?" He didn't know how else to convince her. She was free willed, and she never needed convincing. She knew what she wanted and stuck to her guns. But seeing him stood there on the doorstep in darkness did something to her.

"Fine." She muttered quietly, opening the door a little further to let him inside.

He noticed the nearly empty wine bottle on the side, and a stillness in the air. The lamp gave a gentle glow. Everything else remained untouched, just as they had left it that morning. Envelopes full of unopened letters were still scattered on the side. Her brown jacket still sat hooked on the bannister. Her coffee mug remained next to the letters that were ultimately discarded amidst their rush out the door.

"He's not here." She declared, making her way into the living room, wine glass in hand. Eddie hadn't even thought about Philip, but thank god he wasn't here. This was the last thing he needed to hear. The last piece of stability in his life - a relationship between two adults who truly cared for him - now subject to its own turmoil.

Eddie walked into the living room and was met with Rachel looking out the double doors to the darkness of the garden. It felt like he was now under pressure, having been given two or so minutes to beg for forgiveness and make a case for their relationship to her.

"Rach," he started, softly. He watched her take a deep breath and reluctantly turn to him, wine glass still in hand. None for him though, because he wasn't staying. He could say what he wanted to say, then he needed to leave. In her eyes, there was no need for further discussion. "We can solve this."

"Eddie, please-"

"No. You need to listen to me," he said firmly. This was a new side to Eddie that she had never seen before. "Can you honestly look me in the eye and say you'd be happy for me to grab my things right now, and walk out of that door?"

She tore her eyes away from him. Of course she couldn't watch him do that. At that moment, looking at him would have told him all he needed to know, but truth is, he already knew it. He gradually took a few steps closer to her, and Rachel tried her best to affix her gaze on the floor. It felt as if time was slowly stopping. Her breath caught in her neck as he carefully reached up a hand to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. They stood in silence, almost broken, as her eyes met his.

"I can't do this, Eddie." It was almost a whisper, like every single word hurt. His hand still gently lingered by her cheek, his fingers gradually smoothing over her cheek bone.

Their eyes were still caught, and the silence was heavy. All of what each of them had to say was written in their eyes. The apprehension and angst slowly melted away, like his touch was the antidote. Nothing was said aloud, or needed to be said. The feelings were there, burning, almost like torture that physically pained. It was as if the circumstances had vanished. He slowly lent in and caught his lips with hers in the gentlest of kisses, almost timid out of fear for her reaction. But she wasn't going to react. Their normal relationship - the feelings, and the love - overruled for a split second as their faces met. She couldn't help but be swept in by him, but she didn't want him to know it. So many feelings burned as they kissed, his other hand making its way to the small of her back as normality fought back for a precious moment. When reality hit her, she broke away with a sigh. She knew this was wrong.

"This isn't a good idea."

He didn't answer with words, but rather lent back into her as he kissed her once more. Something within her was attempting to fight the doubts on her behalf. Without even needing to think, she found herself obliging to his touch, with her hand making its way to his neck as her wine glass sat in the other. It wasn't long before things grew in intensity. The glass sat on the mantelpiece as breaths that were once sighs soon became were both losing control.

Neither one of them did anything to stop it.