Swiftcurrent Creek Pick you up, let you down

She shrinks a little at the anger in his tone, flushing with shame as her gaze drops again; when did she become so timid? Maybe around the time you got knocked up, a nasty voice chimes helpfully in the background, and her nausea intensifies. Our mistake, She corrects quietly, eyes still trained on the ground. She pauses a beat, then adds more quietly: I'm sorry. She doesn't know what she's sorry for this time; sorry for suggesting it, perhaps — or for making such a suggestion necessary.