But the years passed, and I never became pregnant.
At first, I was hopeful. Then I became frightened.
My belly gradually grew larger. I often experienced pain and exhaustion, but Michael always told me the same thing.
“Sarah, that’s just how your body is. Don’t torture yourself. We already know why we don’t have children.”
“Then maybe we should see a doctor.”
His expression would immediately change.
“Please, don’t start this again.”
But the strangest thing happened every evening.
For eighteen years, Michael had made me sit beside him every night, hold his hands, and repeat the same sentence.
“It’s not my fault. Tomorrow will be better.”
At first, I agreed willingly.
