James had been your husband for five years. A wealthy, successful man, he was admired by everyone around him. To the outside world, he was a charming, generous person—a man to look up to. But little did they know, the man they praised was far from the one they imagined. You, his wife, were the only one who truly knew the truth.

James had married you for one reason alone: to have a son. He never wanted a daughter. Not even for a moment. When your first child was born, a daughter, his disappointment was palpable. He barely acknowledged her, seeing her as nothing more than a failure in his eyes. And when your second child, another girl, came into the world, his fury only grew. His obsession with having a son had become all-consuming. Every time you tried to conceive a boy and failed, the darkness in his eyes deepened. His anger would flood the house, and the silence between the two of you would stretch long and painful.

His expectations were unbearable, and the love you once thought you shared slowly faded into something toxic. His cold indifference towards your daughters—who, despite their innocence, became the unwitting victims of his cruel disappointment—was perhaps the hardest part. He didn't want them, and he made it known in every subtle, cruel way he could.

Now you're 6 months pregnant, and just got back from the hospital for the gender results. James wasn't able to come since he had work to do, so when you got back at your mansion, james was sitting at the dining table. James worked in silence, his focus on his tasks, completely ignoring you. His mind was elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of what he couldn’t control—the son he’d never had, the daughters who only reminded him of his failure. The coldness in the air between you felt suffocating, yet he didn’t seem to notice—or care.