Over the following weeks, Michael was a model husband. He allowed Angela to bring home her work and even do it in the living room. He helped with the housework and dinner preparation, and he did not shout at her once. Angela had explained to him that their son was in distress after witnessing their fight. As a result, a now remorseful Michael looked to his son first and considered the child's feelings whenever he was tempted to anger toward Angela. It was not easy for him, as he had to bite his tongue numerous times, such as the time Angela came home from work after 8 pm. Or all the times she refused sex because of fatigue or bringing home too much work. His resentment began to simmer and as the weeks ticked by, his sarcastic retorts increased while his patience decreased.

As for Angela herself, she had been trying to ignore a niggling pain in her lower abdomen. She still contended with morning sickness but less frequently now. However, the fatigue was incessant and she found herself dozing off at her desk every day after lunch. She would close her office door and snooze for half an hour or so, resulting in a greater workload to bring home that evening. She only needed to sleep more, go to bed earlier and sometimes sleep in a bit and start work a little later. She was doing her best, but Michael would come to bed a good hour after her and begin stroking her arm, then asking if she was actually asleep. He would wake her up from a deep sleep and begin kissing her neck, attempting to initiate sex. The last thing Angela wanted was to be woken out of such necessary sleep by an amorous husband. She kept her eyes shut and hoped he would leave her alone. Then she could hear him sigh and mutter under his breath, but she chose to ignore him and focus on getting her rest. Mostly, he left her alone and complained about her rejection the next day. Angela would act innocent and say she had slept through the entire thing.

After several nights in a row of rejection, Michael had had enough. The next morning at breakfast, he spoke sharply to his wife. "It's been too long since we made love," he told her while she sipped her orange juice at the kitchen table. Jonathan was expected in the kitchen at any moment.

"Michael, do you really think now is the time to discuss it? Jonathan is on his way down."

Michael clenched his teeth and breathed hard out of his nose. "I bring it up now because by tonight, you'll be dead to the world. I feel the need to make an appointment."

"You want to make an appointment?" she asked incredulously. "For that?"

"Seems like it's the only way to get time with you these days," he replied. Michael went over to the kitchen cupboard and poured two bowls of Crunchy Crawlers. He put one in Jonathan's spot and took the other bowl for himself, then filled them both with milk. Angela looked at the bowls of sugary cereal and remembered Tony's words.

"You know, our son should have a shot of protein in the morning. Can you scramble him a couple of eggs instead of that sugary cereal?"

"But Jonathan loves his Crunchy Crawlers, and so do I."

"Yes, but I don't want him to get a sugar rush and crash while at school," she explained to him. "Please scramble him an egg."

"I don't have time, Angela. I've got to get to work. If it's so important, you do it."

"Fine, I will." Angela stood up and went to the fridge, where she got out two eggs. She grabbed a small frying pan and set it on the stove, then set about beating the eggs and heating the pan. The smell of melting butter made her stomach heave but she continued. When the pan was hot enough, she poured the egg mixture onto the melted butter. The scent of frying egg hit her full in the face and she began to retch. "Michael, help," she called out. "I'm going to be sick again."

"Well you shouldn't have made eggs, then, should you?" he said. "I have to go now, Angela. Just turn off the stove and go throw up. The eggs are done anyway." He grabbed his briefcase and watched as Angela hurried out of the kitchen.

"Tonight!" he shouted at her departing figure through the kitchen door. "I'm making an appointment with you tonight! As soon as Jonathan is in bed."

Angela heard his words but was too intent on making it to the bathroom in time. She headed for the small guest bathroom off the main hallway and heaved and vomited all of her orange juice. Her head spun and her belly ached. She splashed water on her green tinged face and rinsed out her mouth.

"Mommy?" Jonathan poked his head into the bathroom. "Are you okay, Mommy?"

"It's just morning sickness, Sweetheart," she reassured him. "Come on, I made you scrambled eggs."

"Gross."

"Jonathan, they're what Tony would give you for breakfast," she reminded him. "I don't want you eating Crunchy Crawlers anymore. They're bad for you."

"But Daddy says_"

She cut him off. "Yes, I know Daddy says they're good, but they're not good for you. How about we try and eat like Tony would say. Hmmm?"

"Well if you eat some, I will," he begrudged her.

"Fine."

They went into the kitchen together and shared the somewhat runny scrambled eggs. Angela took tiny bites, encouraging her son to eat, while attempting to keep her own nausea at bay. She looked at her son and a sense of potent guilt overcame her. He had seen too much, and while things had been much calmer over the last few weeks, she didn't know how he felt about anything, since he kept his feelings bottled up inside of him. His tummy did seem calmer though, but he tiptoed around Michael on eggshells.

Angela sat with him a bit longer than usual, making small chit chat about school. "Uh Mommy, we're going to be late!" Jonathan reminded her.

"It's okay, Jonathan, I'll take you now. We can go."

The little boy hurriedly stashed his lunch in his school bag and grabbed his jacket. They drove to the school in companionable silence. When they arrived, the first warning bell had already gone off and parents were driving away from the school. Angela easily found a parking spot vacated by a departing parent. As she walked her son to the school's front door, Tony's blue van drove over to her and he opened the window. "Hi guys!" he shouted to them with a friendly wave. "See you after school?"

"You bet!" Jonathan replied. "I can't wait. Can I ride one of the ponies today?"

"If it's okay with your mom."

"It's fine with me. Just watch him, Tony."

"You know I will. See you this afternoon." Tony waved goodbye and got a last glimpse of them as Jonathan entered the school. He frowned because Angela was so pale and seemed to have lost even more weight despite her pregnancy. He could not see any evidence of a baby belly on her, yet she had to be about three months along by now. Instead, she was wan and tired looking, with dark smudges beneath her eyes, and her elegant cheekbones even more defined. Her dark eyes looked larger in her thinner face. He made a mental note to bake her something fattening that she could eat quickly when she came to pick up Jonathan that afternoon.

Angela had a terrible belly ache. Her stomach had been hurting her all day and oddly now the tip of her shoulder had begun to act up as well. She felt lightheaded but did not feel like eating. Not even when Tony had presented her with his famous carrot muffins when she had gone to pick up Jonathan. He had tried to give her some to take home, but knowing Michael's reaction if he found them, she had declined the treats. For dinner, she had thrown together some packaged spaghetti and tomato sauce from a jar and made a green salad to go with the pasta. Jonathan and Michael had eaten well, but Angela had simply picked at her plate, moving the spaghetti about in circles.

"You need to eat," Michael told her. "For the baby."

"I know, Dear, but I'm not very hungry," she said.

"Well force yourself. You're going to need the energy later," he said with a wink. For Michael had not forgotten the "appointment" he had made with Angela earlier. He fully intended to keep it.

Angela wanted to roll her eyes but knew that would only attract her husband's ire. She gave a quiet nod and resigned herself to it all. "I think I'm going to take a bath."

"Getting ready for me, eh?" Michael grinned and took another generous bite of his dinner.

Angela headed upstairs by herself and drew a nice hot bubble bath. She hoped the pain in her belly would subside, but it seemed to be getting worse, and was now being accompanied by nausea and an increasing pain in her shoulder. She started to sweat. She decided she would call her doctor the next day and see if she was ill with a bug or something. She was not spotting so she did not think it could be a miscarriage, and she had already had two of those in the past and remembered how they felt. She was not experiencing cramping either. Just a continuous dull ache in her lower abdomen.

After her hot bath, Angela said goodnight to her son and went to bed. The pain in her abdomen had subsided somewhat, but she felt dizzy and the tip of her right shoulder continued to pain her. She had put in a long day at the office, and as such was fatigued to the point of collapsing now. Her limbs felt heavy from the hot bath and she poured herself into bed and turned out the light. It was early, not even nine o'clock yet, but Jonathan was in bed and she really didn't see the need to stay up. Her work would have to wait until tomorrow because she was not in the right headspace to get anything done. She only wanted to sleep, and as it was, she fell into a deep dreamless sleep almost instantly.

It was the feel of his stubbled chin against her neck's sensitive skin that woke her. She startled and jumped up in the bed. Michael's hand was on her waist, holding her down. "I can't believe you fell asleep again," he complained. "We have an appointment, remember?"

Angela blinked the sleep out of her eyes and blearily opened them. Michael had turned on his little side lamp and his face sat in a half shadow. He stared expectantly at his wife. Angela closed her eyes again and turned away from her husband. "Michael, I was sleeping."

"Yes, I know. That's why I woke you," he explained to her as though she were a small child.

"Do we have to do this tonight? Because I'm really not in the mood. I'm so tired."

"You're never in the mood, Angela," he huffed out. "It's been weeks. Come on. I'll make you feel good," he told her, a tease in his voice. He caressed her right shoulder and placed a series of kisses along her jawline. Instinctively, she flinched from his touch because of the searing pain in her shoulder.

"What the hell! Am I that repulsive to you?"

"No Michael, but my shoulder hurts. I can't …. I just can't do it tonight. I'm sorry."

"Your shoulder?" he scoffed. "I don't need to touch your shoulder, don't worry." He flipped her from her side onto her back by putting his hands on her torso, avoiding her shoulder altogether. "There you go. Being on your back isn't going to hurt your shoulder."

"Michael, I'm not in the mood …" her protests were cut off by his insistent mouth over hers, roughly trying to open her lips to his. He ignored her muffled protests and kept kissing her, deeply, pushing his tongue through her clenched teeth. Angela tried to turn her head away, but she could not because Michael was being so forceful with her. Her heart began to beat fast and she felt as though she could not breathe and began to panic. She pushed him off with all her might, using her good arm and he barely budged. He did, however, find offense with her move.

"Do that again, Angela. You just try it." He warned her. He placed one hand on her bad shoulder and smirked at her, while with the other, he lifted her nightgown. She wriggled away from him, but he held her still. He moved his hand away from her shoulder to her chest and pressed down, while with his other hand, he lowered his pajama pants. His erection stood poised at Angela's entrance and he began to push inside.

Her sense of self felt violated. Something within her recoiled and she let out a horrified yelp. While usually acquiescing in matters of sex, and rare to refuse her husband, she knew that she did not want this right now. She slammed her legs closed forcefully and felt Michael's penis slap hard against the inside of her thigh. He groaned in pain and pulled away from her sharply. He was breathing hard, frustrated, and now insulted. His pupils were so dilated that Angela could not see the colour of his irises and she shrank back from him. She began to scramble off the bed but he grabbed her bad arm, hard.

"You think you can reject me night after night, and then hurt me?" he accused, pointing to his sore male member.

"No, Michael, I didn't mean to hurt you," she began, but before the words were fully out of her mouth, Michael's fist had slammed into it. She felt her lip begin to bleed and she jerked away, rolling off the bed, landing hard on her backside. "Owww," she cried, for the jolt carried through her backside to her shoulder and then back to her abdomen again. The pain was sharp, unlike the dull ache she had experienced earlier. "Michael, something's wrong," she cried.

"Yes, something is wrong with you!" he yelled. "You want to be alone so badly, you can sleep on the couch," he said. "Here!" He pulled her pillow and some of the bedding off the bed and threw it at her where she lay.

"Michael, I'm in pain," she tried again.

"So am I!" He came around to where she was on the floor and kicked her thigh. "Get up. You're sleeping on the couch."

Angela knew it was pointless to explain anything to him while he was in this mood, eyes glinting with anger, cheeks red, and still holding his injured penis. She raised her head and fought the dizziness she felt. Her abdomen and shoulder were burning with pain now, but she managed to stand up and walk, bent over to the bedroom door, holding her bedding in front of her. As soon as she exited into the corridor, Michael slammed the door in her face.

Hearing the commotion, Jonathan poked his face out of his bedroom. "Mommy?" he asked, while holding his stuffed bear close to his chest. "Mommy, your lip is bleeding."

Angela looked at her closed bedroom door, and at her son's anxious face. "Can you be very quiet?" she asked him in a whisper. She wanted to cry from the pain in her belly now but managed to keep her voice very hushed.

Jonathan stared at her with large, worried eyes and nodded. "Good, now get some socks and shoes on. I'm taking you to Tony's."

"Tony's" he began to say but was stopped by his mother's finger over his lips. "Shhhh," she said.

She ushered her son down the stairs as quietly as she could and slipped on her shoes over bare feet, and her coat over her nightgown, bending at the waist as she walked.

"Mommy, are you okay? You're walking funny." Jonathan whispered to her, remembering to be quiet.

Angela told him everything was fine, and they exited the house, being careful not to make any sound with the door. She had her purse and car keys, and her cheque book, just to be safe. She wished, however that she and her son had day clothes, but they would have to wait until Michael left for work before they could gather their things. She remembered Tony's invitation to call him if she felt unsafe, and Angela felt the danger all around her. From Michael, and from her own body's intense pain. She buckled Jonathan up in the back seat and sweating from the effort, climbed into the driver's seat.

The drive over to Tony's was extremely difficult. While only three miles away, Angela found the drive excruciating. Her shoulder and abdomen were burning from agony now, and she felt nauseated and lightheaded. She only hoped she would not pass out in the car. She only had another mile to go.

After what felt like an eternally long drive, Angela finally pulled up to Tony's apartments. She knocked on his door.

Tony was watching some late-night television when he heard a frantic knocking at his door. Startled, he went to answer it. He had a strange feeling when he opened the door, which was confirmed when he saw Angela and Jonathan in their nightclothes. Angela's lip was swollen and bloody and she was deathly pale.

"Angela?" he asked.

In response, Angela fell into a dead faint at his feet.