What feels like a soccer ball strapped to your stomach presents problems than I had anticipated. I wanted to run into Blake's arms and I wanted to jump onto the kitchen bench and watch Blake cook. However, I'm afraid of falling. The baby has grown bigger, which means there's more chance of harming our bub opposed to before.

Is it too late to crack out the bubble wrap? I'm basically a walking disaster. For my own good, I'm bound to the sidelines gazing over life bustling around me. Yes, it's a little dramatic as it's only been a week since I woke up.

Blake's afraid I'll break, though he should know by now, I don't break easily. If he keeps acting like I'll break, perhaps I'll believe I'm this flimsy piece of glass on the axe of breaking into a thousand pieces.

"What are you doing?" asks Blake.

With a slight shake to my head, I grab the plates off the table and scurry into the kitchen. Placing them into the sink, I start running the water as I search for the soap.

"Ava," he calls out. "You don't need to do the dishes."

"You cooked, so I'm cleaning up," I explain.

Blake races around the bench to get to me – almost like something terribly bad is about to happen. One hand rests on my hip and the other turns the tap off.

"I can do the dishes in the morning, hun," he explains, his warm breath tickling my neck from the close proximity.

"No." I shake my head. "I can do them now."

"Ava, please," softly begs Blake.

"Just let me do the dishes," I grumble.

I'm already tired of sitting idly – it's weird. I'm not a fragile child, I want to have responsibilities. I need to feel like I have a purpose to serve other than resting for the baby. The baby can rest in my stomach, I don't need to sleep for it to rest.

Blake's hand falls from my waist as he steps away. I hear the soft sound of his feet hitting the flooring before his body comes into view. He takes a seat on the stool and looks at me. Blake's green eyes search mine before his head drops low.

I refuse to say sorry for washing dishes. I refuse to be treated like I'm helpless.

Turning the water back on, I pour in a dash of soap. The liquid instantly turns into a mountain of bubbles from the running water. As the sink fills up, I grab the other utensils and plates to be washed.

Once the sink is filled, I turn the water off. I grab the first dish out and clean off the mess. Since I've rubbed Blake the wrong way, I shouldn't pester him with questions. But those unanswered questions burn my throat. I need to know what I've missed.

"So," I ponder aloud.

"So," murmurs Blake.

"I am curious." I smile. "What else happened when I was, eh, asleep?" I didn't want to say the word coma. It sends a shiver down my spine every time.

"Nothing exciting." He shrugs his shoulders.

I couldn't accept things were just boring. From his shifting behaviour, it makes me think more had happened. The fact he'd shoved all over those events into two words spiked my curiosity more.

Taking another dish from the sink, I scrub off the mess and place it on the drying rack for later. I'd take Blake's offer for clearing them away in the morning.

"Tori stayed for a couple of nights," Blake begins to say. "She helped look after London while I visited you in the hospital."

"Oh." I shrug my shoulders. "That's fine." My shoulders relax and I exhale my breath. He had me worried for nothing as it seems.

"And." He bites his lip nervously.

"You can tell me," I encourage.

With his head hung low, I peer closer. My breath threatens to get caught in my throat, but I force it out.

"I yelled at your parents," he confesses. "I told your mother she didn't deserve to be there, not after what she said."

My hands grip onto the soapy dish.

"Aren't you going to say something?" prompts Blake.

"I-" take a deep breath. "I don't know what to say."

Blake's head tilts up, a scowl carved onto his delicate features. Blake's shoulders arch back, but I can see the stiffness plaguing his body. His jaw is tense, but he manages to shoot out words.

"How about that you're on my side?"

"I can't." My voice cracks between each word.

"You can't, what?" Blake slams his hand against the table. The thud of his palm colliding against the cold marble surface rings through the kitchen. A shiver rolls down my spine uncomfortable.

I didn't know what to say that would add to this conversation. Every road I could see this conversation going was a disaster, but at the same time, sitting here wasn't helping either.

"I watched you hurt after your mother turned on you, Ava. I've always been there for you and the baby."

I don't want to point out the times I felt alone. The moments where I was keeping this boat afloat to make him comfortable. But I don't say those words because I can see Blake's hurting. He's not over what she said and he's not over what happened.

I wanted to hate those stairs and I couldn't. But Blake hated those stairs and I didn't blame him. I'd hated Tori after what she'd done to Blake . . . what she continued to do afterwards. I can't forgive him for talking to my parents like that, but I couldn't pretend I didn't understand either.

"You still don't get to make those decisions for me," I say.

All those times I'd wanted my mother to come . . . those times she didn't come. It's hard to know if she didn't come in fear of what Blake would say or because she didn't want to come at all.

"Fine, I won't next time," grumbles Blake.

Blake storms up the stairs and leaves me alone. I knew things weren't going to end well.

Instead of chasing after him, I finish the dishes and clean up. There's no point chasing after him when he's angry. I don't think a hug is going to smooth things over. For once, I couldn't say sorry because I wouldn't mean it. I couldn't justify an easy patch just to save myself for a day. If we didn't figure this out now, it would be a huge mess later on. It's already an undesirable circumstance now.

Sometimes I wish life would give me a map to follow – a direction that is right without questions. However, sometimes I think the point of life is to get lost. Without getting lost, you miss the fun things and the freedom attached. Even if we were told what to do, we wouldn't like it. Funny how that works.

Once the kitchen is clean, I turn off the lights and head towards bed. As I take a step on the stairs, a pain swells up in my back. I moan out with discomfort, which earns a rustled noise of heavy footfalls.

Looking up, I see Blake frantically charging down the stairs. He wraps an arm around my body and tugs me against his chest.

"I don't need your help." I push Blake away.

"Ava, please let me help you."

"No." I take another step, but the pain crackles through my lower back like a leather whip.

"I'm not taking no for an answer," replies Blake.

His hand stays wrapped around my waist as I heave uncomfortably.

"I'm fine, really," I say.

"I'm sorry, Ava. You were so upset because of your mother . . ." Blake looks away. "I was afraid of losing you both." His green eyes fill with sadness, the kind that breaks my heart – the kind that will always break my heart.

"Thank you." I nod.

"I never want to feel that pain again." When Blake tugs on my body, I let myself collide against his chest. He buries his face into my neck.

"I hope you never will," I respond.

Blake leans back and clasps my face in his hands. I tug on my brightest smile to show him we're alright. Nothing can take us apart now.

"There is something tragic about a beautiful smile," he mutters. "Tell me, what is on your mind. Is it Tori?" he asks.

Tori's name never crossed my mind till now. It seemed like a given that she'd be here helping, I wouldn't expect anything less. Before the accident, Tori had offered to help where she could, this included.

"No." I shake my head. "I was thinking about talking to my parents."

"Really?" Blake gasps.

"She's already lost one child, Blake. I don't think she can lose another one."

"B –"

Grabbing Blake's hands, I place them on my belly and look into his eyes. I give him a moment to feel the baby.

"Think about the moment you almost lost our bub," I say. "You would do anything to make sure our baby is okay, wouldn't you?"

"Yes." He nods.

"She'd do the same." Words are words, words are what we speak. Sometimes those words mean more than what we think. We only touch the surface when we listen. But when we break the surface, we learn what is truly being said.

I'd never forget the hurt burnt into my heart the moment she spoke, but I could understand to a degree. She's scared, I'm scared, we're all scared. Scared of what's to come, what's happened, and what we'll never know. I can't live in the shadow of yesterday when I have our future growing inside of me.

"Okay."

"Will you support me?" I ask.

"Always, baby, always."

"Thank you." I smile.

Blake helps me up the stairs and into bed. As I rest my head against his chest, I expect to feel comforted and at home. But as I listen to the sound of his heart thumping under my ear, I felt the cold sheets pressed against my body and realise something doesn't feel right. Home doesn't feel like home and I couldn't grasp the reasoning to why. Home has always felt like home before.

What do you think about Ava / Blake? How do you think things will go down with her parents?