Things began to go back to normal...well, normal-ish slowly. Markus and I were doing a couple of things which was awkward and weird for both of us. We went on dates, saw movies, made dinner together, and made out like teenagers. We even moved my things into his primary bedroom. We weren't 'doing the deed' just yet, but Markus was understanding as to why I wasn't ready, and he never pressed the issue.

Our days were filled with breakfast, work, lunch, manuscripts, dinner, more manuscripts, making out, and bed. There wasn't much for the tabloids to pick up about us, so they eventually left us alone. We were no longer the center of attention, and we finally had the house to ourselves. Of course, we would be in them from time to time if we went out to dinner or had guests, but other than that, we had not been the main story on any millionaire's mind which is good in this world.

But as I said, things were going great until they weren't.

Do you know that moment in movies where the characters are about to have what you think is their happy ending? That's how this was, and we thought we had a happy ending. At least, I thought so.

It happened when his mom came to visit with his dad one weekend. She was pleasant, which isn't normal for her, at least not being friendly to me. We were waiting on dinner to finish, and she insisted on seeing the new redecorating of all the rooms, so while the men spoke of business, the women spoke of decorations. I first showed her the kitchen, then the dining room. So far, she seemed to approve of my decorating tastes, saying things like, "Oh, how nice." Or making pleased hmm noises as I showed her rooms. Then we moved to the upstairs rooms; I showed her the guest rooms first, trying to avoid showing her the master bedroom. Luckily just as we were headed there, we were called for dinner.

On the way down the hall, listening to her speak approvingly about my decorating style, I kept getting the sense of slight danger or deja vu. I don't know if it were something she'd said as we reached the stairs or if it was the polite back and forth to who should go down the stairs first, which I inevitably went first, but I started to remember what happened that day.

~~~~~~

How could a mother do something like that? How could someone cause death to a baby without a second thought?

Why didn't I take her offer? She would still be alive if I had.

"Jan? What's wrong?" Markus was kneeling next to me, looking at me worriedly. I couldn't look at his parents or him. It was my fault. I shook my head, and he wrapped his arms around me.

"I think we should call it a night." Mr. Turner said as they stood up from the table, and he led his wife out without saying goodbye.

Markus took me to our room and undressed me. He pulled an oversized T-shirt over my head and pushed me onto the bed to lay down. I don't remember much else besides crying the rest of the night.