WHEN HE BROKE ME

" Not again, not again," I said, shaking my head vehemently as crimson read liquid drooled down my thigh.

"It's okay, Violet," Gregory said, wrapping his arm around me. His broad strong shoulders accommodated my head while his fingers cleansed the blinding tears that trickled down my bloodshot eyes.

A clatter of footsteps rang across the hallway as his mother, Patricia, now graced us with her presence. Her wrinkles threatened to spill over on her neck with every vigorous movement.

"Where is it?" she asked with a stern fold of a forehead.

"We...we lost it," Gregory replied, still caressing my face.

"That's your fourth miscarriage in your six years of marriage, Gregory. You're not getting any younger and neither is she."

"I know, mother." His eyes turned sharply away from her staring blankly into mine.

"Gregory," she said, crossing the distance between them.

"I have let you have your way, way too long. I think it's time we tried mine."

"I will not, mother. I won't cheat on my wife."

She looked at me for a minute and then returned her gaze to Gregory, watching him with bent brows as her fingers clutched her purse tighter.

"You are rich enough to afford as many wives as you want in this town of Mississauga and yet you choose to hold on to a barren love."

"Mother," he said, turning sharply.

"I will not have you talk to me like that in my own home."

"A home, Gregory," she said with a scoff, chuckling at his last sentence.

"You call this place that hasn't heard the cry of a baby since your marriage in 1988, a home."

His stare dropped to the floor beneath her. His head drifted to avoid meeting her in the eyes as he replied with a chronic stutter in his voice.

"We...w...we are trying, Mother."

"Try harder!!" she shouts strolling off into the corridor from whence she came

"I'm sorry," he said, bending to tend to my overflowing tears.

I grabbed his fingers, staring loosely on his face.

"She's right, you know," I said lowly.

"Oh, babe please don't start. I can't put you through that kind of pain. I promised I won't hurt you."

"Right now it's the only way," I said with a sob.

"I re..." He shushed me, placing a finger on my lips, caging back any words my tongue was almost about to spill.

"Say nothing more."

He bared me upon his strong arms lacing my cheeks and forehead with little soft kisses as we headed for our bedroom.

His blonde short hair swept across my skin each time he brought his face to mine. Patricia was right we had stayed long enough without a child and it was high time one of us took a stand. Even though it was not going to bode down well with the other.

"Good morning, madam," Agatha greeted bending slowly.

"Morning, Agatha," I said, taking a seat on the dinning table as she poured me a mug of steam rolling tea that chased away the chills of the Mississauga air from your blood.

She walked over to the counter with her slender build on display. I gawked at her soft pink lips that needed no lipstick to stand out. Her slender curves a good enough bait for any man's eyes and her flawless fair skin sparkled even with the dim sunlight.

She was exactly in the league of women Gregory was into. Shocking was the fact that he hadn't had an affair with her for the past four years of her work here till now.

I stared into the mug, the sediments of floating chocolate chunks strolled down its walls, just like the blood strolled down my thigh that evening. My melancholic screams did nothing in my favour as I laid on the staircase with him holding my head soaked in screeching tears, even though it was short and painless.

"Agatha," I called out.

"Yes madam," she replied, running forward.

Deep breaths rolled into my nostrils as I stared across into her unexpectant eyes. I had already conceded defeat. I loved him but this was much more bigger than love.

"I have a proposal for you."

My feet paced about our room anxious for that door to bulge or creak open.

"Honey, I'm home," he said. His voice ran up the stairs and into our room.

"Oh, my love," I replied with an upbeat tone, throwing the door open, gliding down past the stairs and into his arms. His peppermint scent flirted with my nostrils as he ran his hand through the packs of my heavy crochet.

"How was work?" I asked.

"Fine, business as usual," he said, crashing onto the couch with his head raised to the ceiling.

"I ha...I have something to tell you," I said fiddling with my finger

"Go on."

"I...I." I said with a fallen gaze that shuddered to face his.

"I have found the perfect woman for you." A contorted line of disgust clumped along the lines of his face.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"A surrogate," I replied with twitchy feet. The tension in his eyes glazed over me. The apparent stare of disgust had now born into stern airs of disappointment and firmly raised eyebrows that hovered in the spaces between us.

"You don't have to be upset. It's just a period of nine months, nothing more. When she gives birth we pay her off and then we keep the baby.

"I," he said with a stutter, reserving the other words with a firm hand over his mouth, with his eyes walking away from me.

"I can't believe you're allowing her get to you," he finally spilled.

"No babe," I said, joining him on the couch.

"I know you love me and you can't bear to see me hurt but this is bigger than us, than our love."

He sobbed as I stared into his eyes, watching those glaring tears quickly build from underneath.

"I won't hold it against you," I said placing my palm on his

"So who do you have in mind?" he asked with a gust of breath.

"Agatha, I said cheerfully.

"Our maid!!" he iterated with eyes blown wide open and lips left ajar.