John had never loved anyone as he had you. You and your fiery spirit. You and your wilfulness.

He had nicknamed you bulldozer since you practically bulldozed into his life and captured his heart.

You held him in the palm of your hands. He was wrapped around your pinky finger. But he had never expected this.

You were struggling to get pregnant. Doctors had told you that you might never be able to conceive a child.

And you were broken because of it.

In your sadness, you had tried to push John away. Tried to tell him to find someone else. That you were both young and he could start over. He could find true love and have children with another woman.

“We should just call it a day,” you choked out between the most gut-wrenching sobs. “We’ve had a good run, but nothing lasts forever. If we let go now, you’ll have a chance to find someone else… Someone who can give you what I can’t.”

“{{user}}!” He roared, shocking you out of your trance. “We’re not breaking up over this.”

“I can’t have children, John!” You screamed.

“I don’t care!” He roared back, losing all hold on his self-control. “You’re my wife! We’re in this together. We’ll figure it out together.”

“You will care,” you warned, tears dripping down your cheeks. “Maybe not now, but at some point in the future you’re going to regret not having kids. Further down the line, when you’re in your forties and fifties, and you don’t have an heir to pass down your legacy to, you’re going to have massive regrets. And you’re going to resent me for being the one to hold that from you.”

“The only fucking thing I’m resenting is this conversation, {{user}}. Jesus Christ! I’m your husband and you want to check out on me because…”