“I am sorry, Mitchell!” I take the initiative to break the dreadful awkwardness and the heart-wrecking tension that have surrounded us for almost a decade. My head is still hunched down, but I can feel her scorching, intense glares trying to search my face.
“For what exactly?” Her tone is full of bitterness and cold enough to summon me up. I meet her eyes, bleeding with three things: detest, disgust, and disapproval of my presence here, probably, or disapproval of this whole thing. Looking at her, I cannot help but wonder if we will ever get along. If she will ever accept the favor I am doing her, I mean, I am making her a mother, but there is no sign that she will ever appreciate that. There is no trace of such a time ever coming. At least nothing of the sort is noticeable right now. All
