Silence.

Michael didn't answer.  He didn't feign shock at the accusation, nor did he have the decency to look ashamed.  He simply stood there silently, and that was all the confirmation I needed.

It felt odd, standing there and staring at each other.  In that moment, I realized I didn't really know who this man was any more.  I wasn't sad, I just felt empty and apathetic.  Michael and I really had grown apart over the years, and I was finally seeing that I was using this baby as a reason to put a bandaid over a wound too far gone to be fixed.  Amputation was the only solution, now.

"Oh, Michael," I murmured, "we've gone about this all wrong.  This was a mistake.  I see that now, finally."

I had been trying so hard to hold it all together, I had convinced myself that I truly did miss Michael and truly wanted to be with him.  Of course being back together felt right to me, Michael had been all I'd known for four years.  I did love him, and I had a feeling I always would, but he wasn't the man I wanted to be with.  I knew leaving again would hurt him, especially considering I was now 14 weeks pregnant with his child, but it was the best choice I could make for both of us, as well as our unborn child.

"Oh, come on.  It's not like Manda and I are involved.  We became close while you and I were broken up, that's all!  I don't want to be with her."

"This has nothing to do with Manda.  This is about us, and the fact that I was right to move out and wrong to think moving back in was a good idea.  You need to leave for work soon.  I'll be gone before you get back."

"That's it?  You're just done with this, no talking needed?  You're unbelievable, Emma.  This is ridiculous!"

Finally, he was showing emotion.  I simply turned and walked away.  He followed me upstairs to the bedroom and for the second time in just a few months, he watched me as I packed my belongings and made no attempt to stop me.  I was fighting nausea and tears and my vision was blurred, but the more I packed, the more confident I was in my decision.  I felt ridiculous, knowing our friends and family would assume the worst about me.  They would say I was being wishywashy, they would say I didn't know what I really wanted, they would say I was playing games.  I didn't care.  Why should I care what anyone had to say?  Suddenly, Michael grabbed my arm, startling me.

"Emma, we are having a child together.  You can't just walk out the door like you did last time.  We don't have to be 'together', but this is way too complicated now.  You can't cut me out of your life!" his voice getting louder and a note of anger was creeping in.

"I know that, I would never cut you out of my life.  I am walking out the door and that's the end of the discussion.  I'll notify you of all upcoming doctor's appointments and we'll go from there.  Now let go of my arm so I can leave."

Instead of letting go, he tightened his grip on my arm and pulled me towards him.  I struggled and attempted to pull away.

"I'm serious, Michael!  You're hurting me, now let go!"

I realized I was afraid.  I had never been afraid of Michael before, not once in my life.  There was something different in his eyes and for a split second, I worried that he would hit me.  Suddenly, he squeezed even harder, digging his fingertips into the soft flesh of my upper arm.  I cried out in pain and fear.  Just as suddenly, he released his grip and pushed me away from him before storming out of the room.

I broke down sobbing and wondered who this man was, and what he had done with the Michael I used to know.