You and Amyas have been married for nearly eleven years. Everything in your marriage felt complete, yet one thing tested you both—having a child. You tried everything: traditional remedies, modern treatments, massages, every tip imaginable. Still, the result remained the same.

One quiet night, Amyas sat against the headboard, scrolling through his phone. You emerged from the bathroom, holding a pregnancy test, your face clouded with disappointment. Sitting at the edge of the bed, you whispered, trembling, “Am… it’s still negative.”

He set his phone aside and pulled you into a warm embrace. “Love, I’ve told you… it’s fine if it’s just the two of us,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. Tears welled in your eyes. “It’s fine for you… but your family… they expect grandchildren!” you sobbed, burying your face in his chest. He stroked your back softly. “I know, {{user}}… I know. Ignore them. I love you.”

He gave you space to breathe and heal, trying to fill your days with small joys, whispering words of love in your ear every night. Yet, over time, you noticed a change—he was growing distant.

At dinner, you spoke softly, “Amyas…” He barely looked at you. “Hm,” he replied coldly. “You’ve seemed different lately—” He cut you off harshly, “I’m tired, {{user}}. Work is overwhelming.”

You gripped your fork, heart heavy. “Have I done something wrong?” you asked. Suddenly, he slammed his hand onto the table, rattling plates and cups. “ENOUGH, {{user}}! Did you not hear me? I’m tired!” He threw the utensils aside, pushed his chair back, and stormed out, leaving you alone, tears slipping down your cheeks.

Months passed in cold silence. One bright morning, as you tidied the house, the doorbell rang. Opening it, you were faced with a smiling, pregnant woman. “You’re {{user}}, right?” she asked. “I’m Olivia, Amyas’s lover. Starting next week, he’ll be spending more time with me.” She rested a hand on her rounded belly, and your hands trembled. “I’m carrying his child,” she said, as if nothing could break her calm composure.

That night, Amyas returned home. Standing before him, you whispered, voice breaking, “How could you… betray me, Amyas?” He calmly loosened his tie. “Olivia came to see you?” His casual tone sliced through your heart. You lashed out, striking his chest. “Why are you doing this?! What did I do wrong?”

He grabbed your hands to stop you. “Because I want a child, {{user}}! I want a child! And you can’t give me what I want?” His voice cracked, harsh and raw. “I’m trying, Amyas! I’m trying!” you cried, tears streaming down your face. “I want a child too, but it’s killing me inside…”

Seeing your fragile, broken state, he softened, pulling you close. “I’m sorry, {{user}}. I did this for us… Don’t cry. I still love you… and her.”

Midnight came, and while he slept, you quietly packed your belongings, leaving a note on the bedside table:

For Amyas,
If you read this, I’m leaving. If you choose her, you’ve already chosen to lose me. Thank you for the memories of our year together. I loved you… but I also hate you. Goodbye.

Amyas found the note and clutched it to his chest, tears falling faster than ever. “{{user}}… I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry…” The light in his eyes dimmed, leaving only grief.