After a few months, Bulma buzzed through her responsibilities and concerns feeling more relaxed and in charge. Every two or three weeks, when they weren't on lengthier trips, Vegeta and Goku trained on Saturday and Sunday. Oftentimes they brought Bulla and Pan, with at least one of their sons watching over the girls too. In turn, Bulma and Chi Chi gained precious downtime for hobbies and pampering themselves. By then they also were taking turns sleeping at each other's homes, enjoying their "special delights" together. They would laugh into the night - feeling no pain - and then slept like rocks.

Vegeta kept quiet, monitoring Bulma's temperament and interactions with family and friends. Sex remained pleasurable – sometimes hot and heavy, other times refreshingly cozy. Bulma never shared what bothered her before his weeklong jaunt with Trunks, but Vegeta was pleased that she appeared less burdened. Rocking the boat almost felt wrong, but, as time passed, he sensed a more sizable change happening and wanted to know more. He hated to admit that a part of him felt left out.

Normally he'd start directly with Bulma but instead evaluated other clues, and all roads led to Chi Chi. The women had grown extremely close. Nothing terrible about that, but Vegeta had noticed changes in Chi Chi's behavior toward others - especially Goku - for a while. At first, he didn't seek more details for obvious reasons: Opening that door would potentially expose him to intrusive, uncomfortable questions about his own marriage, and neither Chi Chi nor Goku showed signs of intense distress between them. But his personality nagged him. He couldn't ignore the influence on his wife.

One weekend, he suggested to Goku that they leave all their offspring at home. Both had come to truly prize their regular joint "dad time" activities, so neither was overjoyed about postponing. Beyond their passion for fighting, in their personal lives, as they aged, having routines grounded them emotionally – especially Vegeta. Parenthood also lightened the men's more exasperating ego-driven behaviors – humbled them, really. Kids have no problem seeing if cereal sticks suitably in papa's and grandpa's mile-high hair. Teenagers revel in critiquing their parents' presumed lack of fashion sense.

The usually avuncular Goku griped about the last-minute change. Vegeta understood – he wanted the kids around too - but also gave him a crushing, irritable side-eye glare. Kakarot has some nerve complaining. This, coming from a man who farts in multiple directions for entertainment.

Vegeta may have been king of the haymaker punch, but Goku had long been crowned the sovereign of surprise – whether large or small, good, bad or downright annoying.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised by your lack of self-awareness, Kakarot."

Goku leaned deeper into his leg stretches, chewing on a piece of straw. "Hey, that's not fair, Vegeta."

"First, I don't give a shit," Vegeta said, handing him a water jug. He laughed, narrowing his eyes. "Second, you should know me well enough to recognize that I wouldn't change plans with our children like this – risking Bulma's annoyance – if the situation didn't require a one-to-one discussion."

"So get to the point then," Goku replied, seating himself. His legs soon crossed into a lotus position, indicating his cautious openness to Vegeta's concerns. "Isn't that what you always bark at me?"

Indulging his theatrical flair for mockery, Vegeta laid his hand over his heart. "I'm flattered that you've listened on that front at least." He then followed Goku's lead, sitting across from him in the same pose. "Notice anything strange with your wife lately?"

"Like how much time Chi Chi and Bulma are spending together?" Goku asked, taking the path of least resistance. He wasn't in the mood to have his brain picked apart. "Why does that seem strange to you? We're all basically family. Have been for years. We love your kids. You love ours."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Vegeta said, cracking his neck. "I tolerate your brood because I love my wife and children - and prefer having a warm place to sleep and eat. They, however, love you."

Goku hurled a clump of ruddy clay, which Vegeta promptly threw back. "My boys and granddaughter call you Uncle Vegeta. Some would call that a miracle, considering how Gohan and I got a front-row seats to your pre-midlife-crisis self. Phew! Nothing pretty there. Makes the hairs spike on my neck!"

"You're out of bounds," Vegeta grumbled, though he mostly excused Goku's provocative jabs. "But I understand your defensiveness more than you think. In fact, I suspect that Chi Chi would be pleased to see your modest defense of her honor. I'm not… looking to insult your wife, though. Know that."

Vegeta let his words sink in. If Goku didn't open up further, then the subject would be dropped. They would have a good time sparring regardless.

"I suggest you ask Bulma if she's been unhappy with something," Goku ventured. "And really listen, Vegeta, you know? Chi Chi is living the kind of life she wants now – on her terms. I get it, mostly, but when a guy's wife turns in a different direction, it's still a change. But don't get me wrong. I don't think she's putting bad thoughts into Bulma's head about you. I don't think Chi Chi could even if she tried."

"I… appreciate your honesty," Vegeta replied pensively. "I suppose we should get warmed up now and throw some kicks."

Chi Chi certainly could try to put "bad thoughts" on Bulma's head if she wanted. Goku seemed naïve about that. But Vegeta also recognized that the woman set a high bar before interfering in others' personal lives – except for her children. Chi Chi had grown a lot too, largely leaving her busybody days behind. Perhaps she and Bulma had become closer confidantes for that reason as well.

Goku's head crooked around. "Wait a minute. Do you sense that Bulma is unhappy?"

"She has been happier in different ways, I guess." Unfolding his legs, Vegeta inhaled and got on his feet. "I have no quarrel with that, really. It's just…that…I don't know…"

Goku suspected that Chi Chi was sharing her "goodies" with Bulma but hadn't asked. He weighed whether to tell his friend. Ultimately, taking things a step further and risking Chi Chi's anger would have muddied the waters all around for everyone, so he said nothing.

"I'm OK if you want to talk with Chi Chi directly, Vegeta, but you're totally on your own with that."

"I sought your opinion, Kakarot, so I intend to acknowledge it in some way," Vegeta said, snapping his brand-new training gloves. "Now prepare to have your ass kicked, clown!"

Goku's hulking palms slammed together, creating energy sparks. "In your dreams, runt!"

"Oh, nice one!" Vegeta bellowed. "Just wait until this runt sweeps the Earth with your broken back!"

To their credit, Bulma and Chi Chi commiserated about their disrupted weekend arrangements without complaining to their husbands. Luckily for them, other extended family members stepped in, making plans for the kids that included some degree of spoiling each one.

Bulma wasn't feeling well anyway before everyone left on Friday. Her joints ached and stomach bubbled. Her hair, in need of a trim, resembled brittle straw - and, for the first time, she had a series of hot flashes. That and her insomnia overnight were good reasons to throw in the towel for the day - and, once again, she didn't want to voice her feelings. Instead, she feigned empathetic attentiveness and cheer long enough to hug and kiss and say farewell.

Her private thoughts screamed "get out."

No work. No calls. No moody kids, husband or parents. Total silence. A brownie – maybe even two.

She texted Chi Chi a few lines, punctuating them with poop emojis. "Fucking hot flashes?! Really?!"

"Circle of life and all that shit," Chi Chi replied. "It's not like you didn't know this was coming."

Bulma added five angry faces to her text. "That's easy for you to say, sister! Have you had them yet? At least our husbands can beat the shit out of other people when they start broiling inside! And they can fucking turn theirs off!"

Events had been going so well, so hitting this milestone chafed. The next morning, Bulma made an appointment to meet with an enthusiastic young doctor. After removing her clothes that afternoon, she almost regretted agreeing to be prodded like an antique car's chassis.

"At least my lady parts aren't as dry as a bone," she told the physician. "I'm not ready to tell my husband to triple our stock of lube at home."

Keeping her head down, the blonde-haired woman scribbled on her medical tablet. "Have you told him about the cannabis you're consuming?"

Bulma had been drinking a small cup of water, which she then gulped. "What was that?"

"Drug tests are part of the examination package, Dr. Brief. I thought you knew. I'm also somewhat taken aback that you didn't update this information in your patient records. We highly respect your privacy. But I also must say, though they aren't bloodshot, a tinge in your eyes is still noticeable."

"Yeah." Bulma wanted to punch her in the throat. "I kind of forgot about all that stuff, Dr. Torres." Her thorny frown didn't discourage the affable doctor, who sat beside her on the examination table.

Dr. Torres patted Bulma's leg and smiled. "Believe me, I'm not judging. You aren't the first patient I've seen using pot to relieve symptoms - and just deal with all the shit that these life changes puts them through. I didn't inquire about your husband to shame you."

"Then why did you?" Bulma vented. She felt angry, embarrassed and hurt. "He's not my warden."

"No, he's not," Dr. Torres continued, "but I've also seen patients who mistakenly shut out their partners when they need them the most – especially ultra-high achievers such as yourself. Don't you think that pushing out and raising two kids with this man gives you the right to a lot more understanding? Who knows, maybe he'd like to get baked with you one night too."

"Get baked?" Bulma cracked up laughing. "You are too young to sound like such a hippie. In all seriousness, I do plan to tell Vegeta, I guess. He's patiently given me a lot of space over the past few months, and everything in my path seemed to be falling back into place until now."

"All I'm saying is stay aware of your emotions, Bulma, not bury them. But beyond that, it would be irresponsible of me to have you quit a legal method that's helped you manage your symptoms and feelings. But as your doctor, I want to supervise all of it. We'll see each other in two weeks and then quarterly from now on."

Her menstrual periods would likely end in about a year, the doctor said. Until then, Bulma had to use hormones to manage the other extremes of her symptoms and have a genetic plan designed to help navigate her natural aging process. Human women like her lived better, and yet Bulma's reflections were dour. Doing the math on the way home, she calculated that Vegeta could outlive her by about fifty years – if some nutcase alien freak didn't murder him first.

Fun times.

She spent Sunday morning through midday in bed, minus her sweets, producing machinery sketches. The previous day's doldrums lifted as her drawing pencils danced like dragonflies across the pages. She also considered not working on Monday to hang out with Vegeta. He usually enjoyed it when she did.

Her timepiece chimed thrice. "Why is he home so early?" Still dressed in pajamas, she abandoned her pad and pencils and put on a robe.

Vegeta, carrying a recognizable container, had showered and changed clothes in the outdoor training center. Bulma stopped in her tracks as they reunited in the corridor. Her eyelid twitched frantically.

"What's wrong with your face?" he asked.

Bulma nearly slapped her herself, avoiding direct eye contact with Vegeta's hands. "Slept too much, I guess. Maybe I'm low on Vitamin B-12. What are you doing home anyway?"

Vegeta's arm dropped, resting the small, festive box on his hip. "That's an interesting welcome. Should I attempt to sense your heart rate, or are you going to tell me what you're on about?"

"Nothing. Nothing, honey. I was hoping to surprise you tomorrow." Bulma untied her robe, assessing her dwindling number of choices. Vegeta had her newest fucking pack of edibles, and despite Dr. Torres' pep talk the day before, she wasn't ready to tell him. She hadn't been that stoned to forget where they were stashed – or had she? How in the hell did he find them?

"I believe the second half of your statement, Bulma," Vegeta replied, "but if you keep lying to me about the first, we're going to have a huge problem. You abruptly left our bed Thursday night and didn't say why, faked being in high spirits on Friday before the kids and I left - and now you're lying. Why?"

"Well, damn." Bulma's lips flattened into a tense, aggravated line. "You seem to have it all figured out. Excuse the hell out of me for trying to be pleasant! I have two bad days between statistically significant streaks of great days and nights, including several in bed with you, and you're upset?!"

Vegeta recognized that a switch had flipped. He and Bulma were well-acquainted with short-tempered arguments, but this reaction set off alarm bells. He put the box on a side table. "Bulma, I'm just…"

Her anxious desire for avoidance overrode all else. "No, Vegeta." She backed up as he moved closer. Her entire body felt like someone lit explosives inside. "Just be quiet. I'm not a crazy person. You know, if I had brilliant mechanics twenty-four hours a day to keep me in top shape like Capsule Corporation machines, it would be all fine and dandy – but I don't have that."

Vegeta sensed a sharp spike in Bulma's heart rate. Her spontaneous sweating and flushed face also concerned him. He changed his tone, wishing to calm her. "Help me understand what's happening with you now. And yes, you have been in good spirits much more, and I have wondered about that too. I feel like we're walking in the dark, almost in separate directions."

Increasingly dizzy, Bulma tried to remove her robe, almost losing balance. Her head felt like she was on a runaway Ferris wheel – and she was blazing hot. Vegeta jumped to catch his wife before she fainted. Her consciousness returned adequately as he carried her into their bedroom.

"I'm OK, honey," she said. "The stress just got to me."

Vegeta's cranky scowl intensified. "You're still breathless, so just be silent. Now it's my turn to be an ass. I'm calling a doctor."

Bulma thumped his arm. "No, I won't shut my mouth, Vegeta, so stop trying to make me - and I got a new physician yesterday. I can explain what happened just as well as she."

"I know what happened," he replied. "You're having hot flashes. This is a particularly bad one. Worse than before I left."

Bulma blinked, hoisting herself on the bed while Vegeta opened a window. "You know?"

Vegeta turned, looking at her. "Do you think I just sat on my ass eating gummy bears while you were pregnant with Bulla? I read everything I could find about women's plumbing."

"Plumbing?!" Bulma shrieked. "Are you trying to make me divorce you?"

"Not if I don't divorce you first," he said, feeling her forehead and neck again. He exhaled, relieved that she didn't have an infection-related fever. "But all this makes more sense."

Bulma's legs punched at the bedsheets. "All what makes sense, Vegeta? We just argued about -"

He raised a finger as a service robot trundled toward them. "The past year - and hold your thought." The machine produced a tray, placing a bowl of ice and water container on top. Vegeta picked up two ice cubes, running them over his wife's lips, forehead, neck and temples.

Bulma exhaled, closing her eyes. "OK, maybe I won't divorce you."

"Don't get too comfortable," he said, popping an ice cube into his mouth. "I'm still on the fence about leaving you. Anyway, I've noticed body-temperature shifts for almost a year, but none seemed to bother you. They were minor, I suppose, but I wondered if something bigger would happen. Now it has."

"It's called counting down the clock until my eggs dry up, man. Until then, I put you in charge of preventing that untapped pipeline in your underwear from blessing us with a surprise baby. You're getting a vasectomy."

Vegeta leaned forward into a one-eyed squint. "And here I thought it was called…. the menopausal transition."

Bulma flicked water on him. "I know what the hell it is, Vegeta. Out of all the related symptoms I've been having over time, I thought luck would rescue me from hot flashes. And you don't win a cookie for pronouncing menopause correctly either."

"OK then." Vegeta sat back, removing Bulma's slippers. He had a foot fetish, so massaging hers relaxed them both. "You could reward me with one of those delicious-smelling treats in that box out there."

Bulma drew in a breath. "What if I said no?' Vegeta's thumb pressed down on her right foot sole, while his other hand kneaded each toe. "Damn this feels divine."

"What's the big deal about the food?" he asked.

Recalling Chi Chi's tale about Goku's accidental brownie devouring, Bulma shook off her drowsiness to end the charade. "Vegeta, honey, please don't eat them. Cannabis is baked into those brownies."

Vegeta laid her foot on his thigh, looking up momentarily. "I'm aware. Chi Chi instructed me to put this new box in one of the freezers. Don't you think it might be better to capsulize them?"

"I cannot believe this." Bulma pulled her leg up. "She betrayed me!"

"No, Bulma. She told the truth. Chi Chi never promised she wouldn't say anything if I asked. From what she tells me, you're aware of that. I have no reason to disbelieve her. I think Kakarot ended our training early on purpose to dangle breakfast under my nose – and I'd be a fool to reject any of Chi Chi's meals."

"Fine." Bulma's hands folded over her lap. "Now you have the truth. I'm not a teenager in need of a guidance counselor."

Vegeta started working on her feet again. "If those brownies help you feel better and aren't hurting you, then why do you sound ashamed? Chi Chi certainly doesn't, though I wonder about Kakarot's view. But that's their concern. You are my concern."

"I didn't want to risk judgment from you or anyone else," Bulma said. "I started having fun and being more creative and trusting myself again - which Chi Chi has helped a lot with, even without the treats. I just wanted something that belonged to me. Even we're having better sex. I'm having less physical pain too."

"You've been in pain?" That revelation startled him. "For…for how long?"

"Comes and goes. Sometimes I hurt all over. Headaches too. Exercise is hit or miss to relieve it. Put yourself in my shoes, honey. You've struggled all your life for a certain type of independence, even when it's hurt you and angered me, but I still understand why. You're also at your most confident now. Look at how the kids relate to you. Bulla – my baby - barely wants me to talk with her. Maybe she hates me."

As his wife broke into tears, then and there Vegeta decided they should find a haven together. Bulma really needed him, but in a different manner. Hearing that she thought their daughter hated her troubled him significantly. He rocked Bulma in his arms, kissing her temple until the crying ceased. She had done the same for him during his bluest moments, after he learned to accept that kind of affection.

"Let's get away from home from a while, Bulma. No frills. Hell, we can bring those brownies with us."