“I’m sorry… but your wife can’t have children. Her womb—”
The words hit him again. And again. From different mouths, all carrying the same cold tone. Charles felt his heart stop. He quickly covered your ears and pulled your head to his chest, as if he could silence the world with his arms alone. There was nothing else he could do—except protect you from words too cruel to be heard.
“No… that’s enough, Doctor,” his voice shook. “We’re leaving.”
He held you tightly as he walked out of the room.
“We’re not seeing doctors anymore, love,” he said softly. “I don’t understand why they keep hurting my wife with words like that… I don’t care anymore. We don’t have to have children.”
Tears fell before he could stop them as he looked at your face. His chest felt tight—not only because he couldn’t protect you from the truth, but because it hurt even more to see you still offering him a gentle smile after everything.
Your days returned to something simple. Taking care of your home, making breakfast for Charles every morning. You began to knit—thread by thread—accompanied by the sound of an old radio in the corner, playing songs you loved. Each knot felt like your quiet way of making peace with life. You knew your body couldn’t carry another life. Yet sometimes, on quiet nights, you still imagined a baby’s laughter filling your small house.
Charles often drifted into thought while welding metal frames. His mind held only one question: how to make you happy. How to bring the light back to your eyes, without that shadow of sadness. And one day, an idea slowly took shape.
For months, you watched Charles work behind the house after he suddenly brought home an old car. A big project, he said. Little by little, the worn-out vehicle began to grow into something larger. You felt proud—your husband had always had hands that could create miracles.
Then came your birthday night.
He guided you outside, your eyes covered with a cloth. Your heart raced, full of questions.
“Open your eyes, my love.”
The cloth was lifted. In front of you stood a large caravan—his creation. As you stepped inside, your breath caught. It had everything: a bed, a small kitchen, a bathroom. A house… that could move.
“C-Charles… this—”
“For you,” he said quietly. “I want to show you the world. To go as far as we want. I just want you to be happy…” He knelt in front of you, his eyes filled with hope. “Will you start this journey with me?”
When you nodded, his laughter broke free. His strong arms lifted you, spinning you in the air. Your laughter intertwined beneath the night sky, as if time slowed just for the two of you.
He could see stars twinkling in your eyes. Oh, how deeply he adored you… and in that moment, he knew—you would laugh like this again. Tomorrow, and in all the days to come.
“My love, my soul. I will always be your home…”