Sitting quietly in the meeting room, you stared up at your husband. He stared back at you, an unreadable expression on his face. "Obviously, we can see that this relationship isn't going as either of you would have wanted," Pedro stated stiffly.

"So we are going to revise the contract a bit. You both state one thing you want in the relationship. The other had the option of rejecting it but a compromise must be reached. There's a lot at stake here," Martha input.

"I want you to stay out of my other relationships. Don't go through my texts, my stuff, and don't question or badger me about coming home late or things like that," Marc spat, crossing his arms. Martha and Pedro turned to you.

"Ok," you stated. "But I want another person at home with me if you get to just go out whenever you want," you said.

"Great, who do you want at home?" Pedro asked, thinking he had sealed the deal without any problems.

"A baby," you replied. Martha and Pedro looked at you incredulously. Marc looked stunned.

"A what?" Marc gasped.

"You heard me. I want a baby. We aren't getting any younger. And it will be good for the press," you lied. You wanted a baby but not to allow the press to have a hay day. You had always wanted to be a mother and you loved kids. Also, you silently hoped that a baby would help keep Marc home. Martha and Pedro nodded and turned to Marc who looked deep in thought. After a few tense seconds, Marc responded.

"Deal." You both signed the new contract and walked out together. Hopping in the passenger seat of the car, you refused to look at Marc. He focused on the road as the two of you drove home in absolute silence. He parked the car in the driveway and you both got out. Walking inside, you shrugged off your coat and sat on the couch.

You and Marc didn't talk until you were both about to go to bed. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you stared over at Marc who remained indifferent. He climbed on top of you and sighed. "Let's get this over with," he muttered. You woke up the next day sore and alone. Marc had left for training, you assumed, and you took a shower and dressed for the day.

Your week consisted of interviews and concerts and fashion shows. Luckily, it was towards the end of your tour and you would soon be given almost a year until the next one. Finishing off your last concert, you waved good bye to your fans before hopping into Martha's car and being driven home. Marc wasn't home and you didn't have enough energy to care.

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you walked inside and curled up on the couch, falling asleep instantly. You woke up the next morning feeling sick to your stomach. Rushing to the bathroom, you puked up last night's dinner. Wrinkling your nose in disgust, you flushed the toilet and brushed your teeth. Marc didn't return home all week, which you spent puking and watching movies in your pajamas.

After the fifth time you puked, you went to the doctor. The nurse ushered you into a room and took samples. You sat, bored out of your mind, waiting for her to return with the results. She returned later with a smile on her face. "Congrats, you're pregnant!" she smiled, handing you the results.

You thanked her and walked out of the clinic. Excited, you texted Marc. He didn't reply . . . for three days. He finally returned home, not even mentioning the pregnancy and heading straight upstairs to sleep. You didn't expect anything more or less from him but you had hoped he would at least mention the fact you were pregnant. Your three month checkup rolled around.

The night before, you sat across from Marc. Picking at your food, you stared over at him. "My checkup is tomorrow, if you wanted to come. It's at 1:00," you stated, barely above a whisper. Marc looked up from his dinner for a split second.

"I'm busy then," he replied.

"That's okay," you sighed, standing up. You put away the dish and went upstairs to take a shower and go to sleep. You drove yourself to the doctor's the next day. Hopping out, you walked into the building and checked in with the lady behind the desk. Sitting down, you pulled out your phone, waiting for the nurse to call your name.

The door opened and you looked up to see Marc enter the waiting room. He scanned the room, his eyes landing on yours. Walking over, he took the seat beside you. Looking nonchalant, he turned to look at you. "I changed my mind," he stated. The nurse came through the door and called your name. Getting up, you and Marc followed the nurse into a room.

"Alright, I'm going to prep you for the doctor. You can keep your clothes on, just lift up your shirt." You did as she had instructed and shivered as the cool liquid touched your abdomen. There was a small bump already forming, which made you smile. The doctor walked into the room.

"Alright, let's see what we have here," he stated, sitting in front of the monitor. Placing the wand on your stomach, the image of your baby appeared. The image was blurry but soon cleared to reveal your unborn baby. You held Marc's hand as you stared up at the monitor in amazement. The doctor pointed out your baby's arms and legs. "Would you like to know the sex of the baby?" he asked.

You and Marc looked at each other until you turned back to the doctor. "Yes please," you smiled.

"Congrats Mr. and Mrs. Bartra, you're welcoming a baby boy in approximately six months. He's healthy and everything looks good for now. I'll see you in three months," the doctor smiled warmly before leaving. The nurse wiped off the gel and you were free to go. For the first time in your relationship, Marc took your hand in his when there wasn't any paparazzi around. Things were looking up.

A month later, you found yourself at one of Marc's games. Wearing an oversized Bartra jersey, you stood and watched the game with the rest of the stadium. Other WAGs flanked your sides, but the only people in the stadium that knew about Marc Jr. were you and Marc. The game started off slow. Marc had made the first team for the match and was playing very well, his passes having deadly accuracy.

Then an opening popped up. Marc, although a defender, took it and was suddenly one on one with the goalie. With a sharply delivered kick, the ball went sailing into the net. You jumped and cheered with the other Barcelona fans. You looked over at Marc, who had grabbed the ball. Sticking it under his jersey, Marc stuck his thumb in his mouth and ran down the field.

He had just announced your pregnancy to the world. Instead of shying away from all the cameras that suddenly trained on you, you smiled wider and cheered on your husband. He ran past the WAG section, pointed and you before making a heart gesture with his hands. The game ended 3-1, Barcelona on top.

The other WAGs congratulated you on your way out. Thanking them, you found Marc in the middle of a conversation with Sergi. Walking over, Marc smiled at you as did Sergi. "Congratulations," Sergi stated.

"Thank you," you smiled, hugging Marc tightly.

"So is it a boy or a girl?" Sergi asked.

"It's a boy," you stated, smiling widely, rubbing your belly that had barely started to protrude. Marc wrapped a reassuring arm around your waist. You smiled up at him and he smiled down at you. Maybe there was a chance the two of you would actually make it through this still together.