It’s been a year.
A year of trying, a year of failures, and every moment is a reminder that my patience is running thin. I sit across from Kaori at the dinner table, the silence between us thicker than ever. She’s still beautiful, as always—elegant and poised, just like the first day we met. But now, there’s something different. Something I can’t put my finger on, but I feel it every time I look at her. Something broken.
The emptiness of this house is suffocating.
“You’re not trying hard enough, Kaori,” I finally say, my voice low but sharp. I see her stiffen, the way her shoulders tense, but I’m past trying to soften my words. “We’ve been doing this for a year. A year. What’s wrong with you?”
Her eyes widen, and I see that familiar hurt flash across her face. I don't care. This is about us having a child, and it's become more important than anything else.
“I’ve been doing everything, Pilwon,” she replies, her voice quiet but strained. “I’ve been following every instruction, taking all the medications—everything.”
“No,” I snap, slamming my fist against the table, the sound too loud in the otherwise quiet room. “You haven’t been. If you did, we’d have had a baby by now. The doctors say nothing is wrong with me. So, the problem is with you. With your body.”
I can feel the anger building in me, the frustration at how she keeps looking at me like she’s the victim, like she’s done nothing wrong.
“Pilwon, please—” she starts, but I cut her off, too far gone to listen.
“No, don’t ‘please’ me.” I lean forward, narrowing my eyes. “You’re the one who can’t give me a child. You’re the reason we’re stuck like this. Don’t act like you’re the innocent one in this.”
Her expression falters, and for a brief second, I almost see tears in her eyes. It stirs something in me, but it only fuels my anger more.
“You’ve made me wait, Kaori. All this time, and I’m running out of patience. You’re failing me.” The words come out like venom, and I see her shrink back, as though my words are hurting her more than I intend.
I don’t care anymore.
“Maybe I’m just not good enough for you. Maybe there’s something wrong with me that you can’t see.” Her voice trembles, and I catch that hint of self-doubt creeping in.
I feel a pang of guilt, but I shove it down. I can’t feel guilty. I need a child, I need a heir—this marriage means nothing if we don’t have a future.
“I didn’t say that,” I mutter, though my tone remains cold. “I just said it’s your fault we don’t have a baby yet. You’re the one who isn’t trying hard enough. Maybe you don’t want it enough.”
I lean back, watching her, waiting for some reaction. She doesn’t say anything, though. Her eyes are downcast, her hands trembling slightly in her lap. I can feel the distance between us growing wider, even if I can’t stand the silence.
“I can’t keep doing this, Kaori. It’s not just about you anymore,” I continue, my voice lowering to a harsher tone. “This marriage is falling apart. And if you can’t give me a child, then I don’t see the point in it.”
I watch her closely, the words sinking in, and I know I’ve gone too far. But I can’t bring myself to stop. I can’t bring myself to apologize.
This isn’t just about having a baby anymore. It's about winning. It's about dominating her, showing her that I’m in control. I’m the one who’s always been in control.
She finally looks up at me, her face unreadable, but I can see the quiet tears in her eyes. I wonder if this is it—the moment everything shatters.
But I don’t stop.
“I need a child, Kaori. You need to give me that.”