After Sarai was discharged from the hospital early that morning, she went to bed and slept for almost twenty-four hours. We didn’t talk about the baby; actually, we didn’t really talk about anything. We went back to our jobs, and Sarai studied and went to school. We ignored the elephant in the room, and I swallowed back the questions I had. Did she really think we were a mistake? She’d apologized for saying it, but that didn’t mean there hadn’t been a kernel of truth in her words. Maybe it made me a coward, but I was afraid to ask her about it.

I was waiting for her to bring the baby up, but she didn’t. She just continued on with her normal day-to-day life as if nothing were happening. As if she weren’t growing a human. Thankfully, after the night we’d spent at the hospital, she didn’t seem to be feeling bad or having any morning sickness. I wasn’t sure if that was normal or not, but I wasn’t about to rock the boat by bringing it up.

We got used to married life slowly, and as weeks went by, our lives melded together and I slowly stopped thinking about the things she’d said to me at the hospital. I picked up dinner on the nights that she was studying, and ate fast food on the nights she was at school, and we took turns cooking on the nights she was free. Those nights were few and far between. It seemed like Sarai had buckled down even harder on her schoolwork.

Sarai still hadn’t heard from her aunt or uncle. They were freezing her out, and as much as I tried to be understanding and give them the benefit of the doubt, the longer it went on, the more pissed I got.

“I’m so glad we can sleep in tomorrow,” I said, dropping next to Sarai on the couch. It was Friday night, and I was beat.

“I know,” Sarai said, leaning against me as I set my feet on the coffee table. “This week was awful.”

“How much homework do you have this weekend?” I asked.

“Not much,” she said with a sigh of relief. “Just planning out the next couple of weeks and finishing up a paper.”

“We should do something fun,” I said.

“Like what?” she asked, tipping her head back to look at me.

“My normal ideas would include booze, tattoos, or skydiving,” I replied, grinning. “But I guess those things are out.”

The smile on her face froze, but she rolled with the conversation starter. “I don’t even like to drink, and I’d kill for a beer,” she joked, rolling her eyes.

“Oh yeah?” Relief filled me as she shrugged good-naturedly.

“And at work, someone was eating a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich, and I almost tackled her for it.”