There was no one else to blame this time, just themselves. The disintegration of a couple's relationship.
"Why didn't you tell me that you went to the doctor?" he tried his best to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice but it was difficult. He knew that arguing would get him nowhere, all it did was make her defensive, successfully ruining any chance of normal communication. He was becoming concerned though, she was telling him less and less about how she was feeling and it was creating more silences than he felt comfortable with. He was afraid that there was something deeper beneath the surface.
"I didn't want you to worry," she replied, her back facing him. He could see her shoulders tense and knew that he would have to be careful about his next words to avoid a fight. They had been fighting more often in the recent weeks, sore points that had been issues in the past reappearing, and it was wearing on his nerves. It felt like he was walking on a bed of nails, having to keep his steps as light as possible for fear of driving one of them into his foot.
"You were pretty sick a few months ago, I'm already worried," he replied. Once the words had left his mouth he was almost positive that it was the wrong thing to say. She had been sick because she had miscarried. Her hand balled up into a fist where it rested on the table.
"You know why I was sick. It won't kill me so don't worry," she said, her voice tight with emotion. He couldn't tell if she was on the verge of tears or exploding but he knew that the situation was no longer teetering on the edge, there was no going back. His skin prickled against his shirt, the nervous energy coursing through his body making it sensitive to touch.
"It was a difficult time for both of us. God, it's still not okay. I think I'm allowed to worry about your well being in this situation," he responded, trying his best to keep his voice even.