I want to give up.

I didn't think that my life could get any more disastrous than it already is, but I was wrong. Somewhere between deciding that we should talk more and sharing awkward moments in bed, Seth has vanished. I actually have not seen the man in over two days. The thing is, we leave today for his birthday getaway.

To be frank, I'm pissed. Royally so. I wasted precious time planning this event, and if he doesn't show up I'll rip those divorce papers from his briefcase and sign them without any hesitation. The clock is ticking down, and so is my patience. I can only hold it together for so long. Truth be told, I think I deserve an award for the things I've put up with. I should have cornered Seth months ago and demanded answers. I should have beaten the truth from him.

If I'd made an effort to find out our problems the very moment I sensed something was off, then maybe we could have fixed things before we ripped ourselves apart. Now we're just dangling in front of each other like two trapeze performers swinging back and forth, ready to clasp hands together. Only, we've lost momentum and with each sway, we grow further and further apart. Soon, we'll just be suspended aimlessly with no way of escaping this nightmare and no way of getting back to each other. I definitely don't wish that upon myself.

I've been giving myself pep talks all week, encouraging myself on the best route for solving our marriage problems. I've come up with one plan after the other, but there's just something about planning these kinds of things that makes it feel less genuine. I don't want to sound like a robot when I confess my feelings and love for Seth. So, with the purpose of just letting my heart speak when the opportunity presents itself, I do my best to keep my mind off this weekend.

Only, that's hard to do when you're worrying over the possibility of the other member not even remembering it. I told Seth about this weeks ago. I told him to save the date, and instead of doing as I'd asked, he not only forgot about it, he hasn't even bothered to come home at all. I honestly don't think he's stepped foot through the front door for two days. Even when I go out for errands, I return to an untouched house. No new dirty dishes, so damp towel hanging on the hook in the bathroom.

What's bothered me the very most though...

His missing toothbrush.

Now, to be fair, he did mention that I probably wouldn't be seeing him much these past few days. I guess I just didn't expect that to mean I wouldn't be seeing him at all. But I won't lie, the absent toothbrush has my suspicions on high alert. I hope with every molecule in my body that Tracy isn't the reason behind his absence. The idea of him getting his fix of her so that he can survive their weekend apart has me shriveling up into a wounded puddle of jealousy.

I'm driving myself crazy. I just need to forget Seth for two minutes and enjoy my life, but he consumes my every thought. It's disgusting how overly obsessed I am, but can anyone really blame me? He's mine. He promised me that. He promised himself to me until death parts us. The idea of him breaking that promise does not sit well in my mind, in my gut, or in my heart.

This has got to stop.

To keep myself from going mad, I head outside to my small garden. Everything's in full bloom this time of year and I realize just how beautiful the vibrant colors of yellow, red, and orange are when they're mixed together. I take my time weeding out my flower bed, throwing unwanted growth into a small pile at my side.

I should have done this sooner. Who knew that gardening could be so freaking relaxing? I've always loved nature and the outdoors, but I haven't done this in a long time. It feels like sipping iced tea on a summer day: cool and refreshing. My soul needs this.

When I'm finished, I sit back on my heels and point my face towards the sky, letting the sun drip into my pores and awakening tiny sparks of happiness. The sparks don't last long, but at that moment they're like honey to a raw throat.

I'm actually basking in the sunshine. It's lovely... until a clearing throat interrupts my blissful moment. My lids fly open and I have to shield my eyes from the sudden onslaught of light. I see Seth standing in the grass to the left of my flower garden, a playful smile on his face.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asks, taking a step towards me and glancing at the flowers I've just cared for.

"Yep," I say simply, though I'm dying to add, "I was."

Instead, I stand and dust my pants off, picking the heap of plant debris up with me and adding it to my compost pile. I walk past Seth, not bothering to look at him as I do so, and make my way into the house.

He follows close behind, and I can almost feel his questioning gaze at my back. My mood is unusual, that's for sure. But, I'm allowed to be mad today. He's put me through enough, and Seth's birthday—the day I have to play nice—isn't until tomorrow, so I've got a little more time to seethe.

"You okay?" he questions from behind me, and I swivel around with a plastic smile on my face.

"Peachy." I make sure to not overdo my sarcasm because even though I'm frustrated, I don't wish to sound like a snob. I've learned never to overdramatize a situation because I always end up regretting it later. I try to keep my cool while still conveying a hint of irritation in my tone, but as soon as the word leaves my mouth, I'm turning and heading to the kitchen to wash my hands.

He continues to follow me, clearly not satisfied with my answer. He leans up against the counter beside me, his head bent slightly to get a better view of my face, but I remain neutral. I'm not sure what my problem is. I'm always civil. I keep my emotions to myself. When I'm mad, I hide it. When I'm sad, I stifle it. When I'm ecstatic, I remain calm. Right now, I'm mad... and I'm showing it.

"Mercy." Seth's gentle voice has my hands stopping mid-wash, the water still running over them. "What's going on?"

I start to laugh, but it sounds evil. I'm not in a humorous mood right now, and I've lost all energy in concealing my irritation.

"Well," I say, my words clipped. "You might know the answer to that question if you still lived here."

Okay, so that was definitely too dramatic. But my mind is swirling with fury and nothing else seems to matter at this moment except for showing Seth how mad he's made me.

"What?" He seems startled by harsh words. "What in the world, Mercy?"

"You realize I haven't seen you in two days, right?" I accuse. "I haven't heard a single word from you. We're dying, Seth. I don't get it. I don't understand why you're letting us die." Where the tears came from, I have no idea, but they're there. I'm breaking right in front of Seth for the first time, and I hate myself for it.

I rub the back of one hand over my eyes forcefully, frustrated at my weakness, but Seth doesn't seem to feel the same way. He looks completely taken aback. It's as if my words have just slapped him right across the face. His mouth moves a couple of times before he manages to find words, but his words are stilted.

"Merc, I—" he cuts himself off before trying again. "I didn't realize." He grabs at his hair, pulling at the strands in agitation. "I told you I had work to do. I wanted to finish it before this weekend so that I wouldn't have any distractions."

"It's not just about that," I tell him with a heavy sigh of exhaustion. I'm already tired and we've barely even begun this conversation. "Look," I say, shutting off the water and spinning around, "my plan wasn't to add more stress to your workload. I thought this weekend would be fun. I hoped we'd figure some things out. Clearly, you're not as concerned as I am."

"Are you kidding me?" His words are forceful and the moment they leave his lips he puts his fist to his mouth to gain his composure and then repeats them with more control. "Are you kidding me? I've been looking forward to this weekend since the moment you mentioned it. I have no idea what you have planned, but I know it'll be good. Why are you always assuming the worst of me?"

"Because," I answer quickly, "you never give me a reason to assume any differently." Maybe I spoke too quickly. The words are out of my mouth before I can think them through, and though I should regret them, I don't.

He's quiet for a moment, watching me with his scrutinizing gaze. He doesn't look angered by my slip of the tongue. Actually, he looks more curious than anything. Like he's trying to understand where I'm coming from... but he fails.

"How so?" he finally asks when he's unable to gain the answers he wants from my facial expression.

"You're never here," I tell him honestly. "Even when you are here physically, your heart isn't. I can barely talk to you out of fear that you're going to shut me down. I don't touch you because you always—and I mean always—reject me. It's like walking through a museum. I want to touch and explore everything, but I can't because everything's encased in glass or roped off, or... or..." I stutter slightly in my hurry to release five months of emotion into a single sentence, "or there's 'please look but don't touch' signs plastered to everything. It's like you're here purely to torture me."

I take a deep breath, staring down at my damp hands. Just when Seth starts to speak, I cut him off.

"Is this fun for you?" I ask suddenly. "Because, the way I see it, your world is exactly opposite from mine. You're in a museum too, but you get to touch and play and explore everything. And, right now, you're running around breaking everything you touch... and one of those things is me."

There. I said it. And I feel incredibly stupid for saying it, but it's too late now. It's out. The truth I've been carrying around for so long is finally out. I run a hand down my face as I tilt my head down and clamp my eyes shut.

"That's not true," Seth mutters, and I flinch at the sudden warmth of his hand gliding around my wrist.

His fingers graze my skin, stopping just above my pulse before sliding into my palm. I instinctively curl my fingers into his and it's at that moment that my phone begins to chime in my pocket. I pull it out just so I can hit the ignore button and I almost feel guilty for rejecting Emma's call. I slide it onto the countertop and then slowly return my attention to Seth.

He's watching me, a tenderness in his expression that I haven't seen in so long.

"Rejecting you is the very last thing I want to do," he confesses.

I stare at him, more baffled than ever. "Then why do it?" I question, my face scrunching into confusion as my heart rate spikes in anticipation for his next words.

"I thought it was what you wanted," he says, and I can feel my temper rise suddenly.

Who, in their right mind, would want to be treated this way? I'm just about to vocalize this question when my phone chimes again. I glance down to find a text from Emma. A small pop-up window displaying part of the text is lit up on my screen, and my insides instantly turn cold.

Call me. NOW!

I turn my phone toward Seth, and he reads it before shooting me a worried look and nodding in understanding. I hate that our conversation has been cut off, but if something bad has happened to Emma, I'll never forgive myself for ignoring her call.

The phone only rings once before she answers, her voice heavy with emotion. My thoughts instantly go to the darkest place... something happened to Trevor.

"Emma?" I say cautiously, fearing what she's about to tell me. "What's wrong? What's going on?"

"Mercy," she answers, her voice slightly wobbly. "I need to tell you something."

"Okay." I shoot Seth an anxious glance.

I'm trying to be careful with my words. I don't want to be overacting before she reveals anything to me, but I can't help it that I'm slightly freaked out. But, the moment she blurts out her reason for calling, I'm furious. More than furious. I'm wildly enraged.

"I'm pregnant!"

If she were standing right in front of me at this moment, I'd have punched her in the throat. That's how mad I am. And yet, I can't let her know that. So, instead, I weave a smile into my voice and congratulate her with the most sincerity that I can possibly muster.

"That's great," I tell her, peering over at Seth who's got his brows raised in question. "When are you due?" I inquire next, knowing it's one of the most common things for a person to ask.

My brain is barely functioning. All I can see right now is a whirlwind of blistering red anger and oozing green jealously. She has everything I've ever wanted. A husband who adores her. A relationship that improves with time. A child inside her.

I want all of that. Adoration. Happiness. Children. I want it so badly that it hurts. Something in my heart feels like ice cream against sensitive teeth. It aches. I can feel my heart cringing away from the sensation, but it's everywhere—consuming me. Emma has just ruined my day in every way possible, and she doesn't even know it.

She has no idea what I'm going through, and yet, I'm so mad at her for not knowing. I need her to understand that I can't handle her joy on top of my sorrow. Right now, joy is like a virus. You try to pass your happiness onto me and it'll just turn into a black infection, spreading it to every corner of my angry soul. My bitterness feeds off other people's delight, and right now, I feel emotionally hideous because there's so much ugly coming to life inside me.

"I'm so happy for you," I say, and in truth, I've still got some room within me to be happy for her, even if I'm not happy in general. "I wish I could chat more but Seth and I are about to head out for a weekend getaway. I'll call you when we get back, okay?"

"Sounds good."

She's not at all bothered that I'm ending the call so quickly. Most likely she's got a list of people she needs to inform anyway, and I was just one of many on her list. It's not until after we hang up that I realize I never even heard her response to my inquiry about her due date. I guess that just proves how distracted I am with my own life.

The moment she spilled her good news on me, I heavy black rain cloud blew into my head and muffled my ability to hear anything but my own internal cries of misery.