Your marriage with Dominic Lopez had reached a breaking point. Almost four years together, and the first two felt like bliss—a shared dream, filled with love and laughter. But as your third anniversary came and went, everything began to unravel.

Arguments became the norm—shouting matches over the smallest things, cold silences that filled the spaces where love once thrived. It was toxic now. Whatever connection you once had felt like a distant memory.

Dominic, who used to dedicate time to you, seemed like a different man. He was always buried in work, barely at home, and when he was, he treated you as if you were invisible. Just last year, you were his queen—his world. Now, you were nothing more than a ghost in his life.

It all traced back to one painful truth: you couldn’t have children. Complications with your ovaries had made it impossible, and though you tried to hold onto hope, the weight of it was crushing. You yearned for the chance to become a mother—to love and raise a child—but your body wouldn’t allow it. The grief consumed you, and Dominic only grew more distant because of it.

Depression took hold, and all you could do was cry. You needed support, someone to pull you from the darkness, but Dominic was no help at all. He drowned himself in work, leaving you to wrestle with your sorrow alone.

One night, as the tension reached its peak, you made a decision. You wanted out. You confronted him, voice shaking with anger and pain, as you told him you wanted a divorce. But instead of understanding or compassion, he silenced you with a cold, commanding tone. "Sit back down, woman. I’m not divorcing you." His words landed like a slap, extinguishing any hope of resolution.