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"You thought I wouldn't find out? You must think I'm an idiot."

"Find out what? Be specific." Sharon stepped around Max and entered the kitchen. She wasn't surprised to find the sink stacked with plates.

"Would it have killed you to wash the dishes?" Sharon shrugged off her jacket, draped it over a tall bar stool, and rolled up her sleeves.

Two years. She had been married to Max for two years and was yet to go raving mad.

"I found this today." Max slapped a sheet of paper on the chrome kitchen counter.

When Sharon's gaze shifted to the receipt, she sighed. "What about it?" Turning to face Max fully, Sharon crossed her arms and squared her shoulders. Max was built like a swimmer, broad-shouldered and lean. It was one of the first things she found attractive about him. Now, she wished he would back up a bit.

"What about it?" Max shoved both hands into his curly hair and groaned. He looked pained--like his heart was breaking or something. Sharon crushed the kernel of sympathy forming in her heart.

He was wrong.
She was right.
That was it.

"You've been on the pill and you kept it from me?" His eyes were red now.

Sharon remained silent.

"Aren't you going to say something?" He dropped his hands and stared at her.

Sharon turned back to the dishes. "What do you want me to say? I did it, end of story."

"How can you be so selfish?" His voice cracked. "You know how much I want a kid and you did this. And that receipt dates back to a few months after our wedding. Who are you?"

Sharon began methodically stacking plates in the dishwasher. "Believe me, you are not the only confused one here. I don't know who I am too." She grabbed a napkin, sprayed the work surface, and began wiping.

Because Max was beginning to get on her nerves about visiting a fertility specialist, she had left the receipt for him to see. He must have done some extra investigation and found the stash of pills too.

"You will stop taking those pills," Max said with irritating finality.

Balling the napkin in a fist, Sharon whirled around. "I would do no such thing. Look at me. I work nine hours a day but you work from home. It never occurs to you to take care of our house even a little bit. I clean up after you, cook for you, and refrain from becoming a murderous witch when your friends come over and turn the place into a pigsty. After playing mother and wife, you expect me to add a child to all that?" A dark chuckle escaped her lips. "Nope. Until I see that sense of responsibility in you, I will never stop taking the pills."

Jaw going slack, Max shook his head. Pointed. Dropped his hand. "I... you... you can't do this." His bare feet slapped against the marble floor as he paced.

She turned from him. "It's already done, Max. Deal with it."

Sharon was certain Max had his friends over. Last time, one of the buffoons stuck bubble gum on the polished deck table. Did they know how much the furniture cost?

"Why are you doing this to me?" His voice lowered. "Most of my friends already have their second kid and you're here spewing this... this feminist crap."

"Feminist crap? I am doing this because I care about my unborn child," Sharon fired back as she turned to face him again. "Why did you bring feminism into this? Is that what you wail about at your boys' hangout? Stab away at your gamepads and bemoan the modern woman?"

Max frowned and looked away. She wanted to laugh. They actually talk about it.

"I'm not married to your friends. If they want to have truckloads of children, that's their business--their life. A baby is a massive responsibility. Why can't you understand me?"

"There is nothing to understand," he said, jaw jutted and stubborn. "Having kids is a normal part of marriage."

"Nope."

"Mum told me I should expect this."

"Really?" Sharon stared, lips parting.

"What?" Max asked as he pushed himself off the wall then strolled out of the kitchen.

Sharon rushed after him, determined to keep him from escaping. He walked into the living area and collapsed into the sofa facing the TV.

"You told your mum I've been on the pill? It's none of her business. How could you?" Sharon marvelled at his insensitivity.

"Why shouldn't I? She's my mother... you know, the one who was kind enough to give birth to me." He grabbed the TV remote and began shuffling through the channels.

"You will not ignore me." Sharon matched around the sofa, snatched the remote, and stabbed the power button.

"But I can leave. I am done talking about this. If you have the right to keep me from having a kid then I have the right to ignore you." He stood and left.

Sharon followed him all the way to his ridiculous den.

"Yeah, I have the right to keep us from having children. You act like a child!"

Sharon nearly crashed into his broad back when he stopped and turned. "Oh please, I like that I act like a kid. At least I'm alive on the inside, unlike someone I know," Max chuckled then grimaced. "You think life's some competition, but I guess when it comes to having a baby you're a loser." Max barged into his den.

"You are such a child, Max. And yes, life is a competition." Sharon refused to be hurt by his words. No. "Just... stop telling your mother about our decisions. It's none of her business."

Ignoring her, Max walked over to his mini-fridge right next to a filled-to-maximum-capacity glass DVD rack and pulled out a can of coke. An attitude of intense boredom guided his movement as he shut the fridge with a careless push and grabbed a bag of chips from a cabinet to his left.

Kicking a gamepad out of his way, Max sank into the sofa, rested his feet atop the glass-topped center table, and sighed.

Sharon nearly lost it. Nearly.

Count to ten, Sharon. Be calm. She stared hard at the superhero-painted wall opposite her, fighting stupid tears.

When Max spoke again, the heat of Sharon's rage burned out her urge to cry.

"I'll tell my mum whatever I want." He grabbed a remote and clicked on the TV. "And please don't tell me the decision to take birth control pills is ours. You made me think my little swimmers were dead for years. I think you should leave, I need to concentrate on the game."

1, 2, 3... 6! This wasn't working. Fury pulsed her entire head.

Max increased the volume of the football game and popped open the bag of chips.

Sharon stared at the back of his head, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to get a word out.

"Moving your mouth like that makes you look like a drowning fish." Max took a swing from his can of coke.

"I... you... I'm not--Fish don't drown, idiot!" Sharon shot back.

"Who cares?" He muttered, eyes still fixed on the TV screen.

Sharon marched to the door but before she left, she grabbed a stuffed basketball and hurled it at his obnoxious head.

"This conversation is far from over." She made sure to slam the door on her way out.

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So... how's me first chapter?
Who do you prefer? Sharon or Max?

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