Chapter two: it's not my fault

"It's been two whole years, and still no grandchildren. Not even one." Her elbow rested on the table, a spoon still clutched in her hand, and her eyes were fixed intently on my husband and me, waiting for an answer.

The question hit me like an arrow. I was speechless, my graceful face falling into sadness. My heart grew heavy, so much so that I couldn't bear it anymore. Tears filled my eyes. I bent my head, trying to hide my feelings. With my left hand, I grabbed a napkin without looking up.

I felt my husband's arm around my shoulder. "It's okay, my love," he whispered, his voice soft and warm, trying to comfort me. Then he looked up.

"Mum, can you please let us eat in peace? My wife and I will have children when God decides," he said, his voice showing anger. "Please stop bothering us." He turned back to me. "Hey, babe, please stop crying. It's okay. God will do it for us." His words were meant to soothe, but the dam had already broken.

I couldn't hold back anymore and cried as if I had been waiting for the chance. I tried to stop, but the tears kept flowing. My husband held me close, his hand gently patting my back, letting me bury my face in his chest and cry in his arms.

"Do you see what you've caused now, Mum?" he exclaimed, his voice trembling as if he was about to break down.

"Christiana, my darling, I've often told you to leave these children alone. Grandchildren will come when God says," my father-in-law, Mr. Theo, finally spoke. "After all, it's just two years of…" My mother-in-law, however, didn't let him finish.

"Did you say just two years, Theodore?" Her voice rose sharply with anger, her eyes blazing. "Two years of sleeping together isn't enough to get pregnant, is that what you're saying?"

"Could you please remember what your mother said on our first meal together when I married you?" my mother-in-law continued, her gaze fixed directly on her husband's eyes, waiting for an answer he didn't give. He remained silent.

"Okay, let me remind you, in case you've forgotten, which I know you haven't," she said, leaning closer to the table, her arms dropping with a gesture of finality. "After our wedding night, the morning after, at this very table, as soon as I picked up my spoon to eat, your mother said, 'Christiana, my lovely daughter-in-law, I hope you and your husband did it last night because I want my grandchildren as soon as possible.'" She paused dramatically, letting her words hang in the air, then continued, "So how am I the villain here? I mean, two years… two whole years of sleeping together, Theodore, and no sign of pregnancy, let alone a child. And you're telling me to stop talking?"

The room fell silent for a few seconds, and only my crying could be heard. Then my father-in-law broke the quiet. "Christiana, I'm not stopping you from speaking, but be mindful when you do."

"Oh, spare me that, Mr. Theodore," she snapped, her patience clearly at its end. Then she faced us directly. "You two, be prepared to go see Dr. Gilbert at the hospital tomorrow." Her tone left no room for argument.

"But, Mom…" My husband tried to protest.

"No excuses, son. Not a single word to argue this. Tomorrow by 8 AM, both of you should be at the hospital. That's my final word."

She stood up abruptly, the chair scraping back. She dropped her spoon onto the table with a sharp clink, let out a small, irritated hiss, and then grabbed the long fabric of her gown, pulling it up to allow her to walk freely. She headed purposefully upstairs, leaving the rest of us in silence.

My father-in-law turned to me, letting out a deep breath. "Maya, my dear, stop crying. It's not your fault, okay? Forget what your beloved mother-in-law said and relax." He patted my shoulder.

"Yes, honey, stop crying, like Father said. I'm the one who lives with you, and I understand you more than anyone. A child will come at the right time," my husband added.

"Alright, let's eat. We're not wasting this whole meal," my father-in-law said.

"What about mother? How can we eat without her?" I asked, looking towards the stairs where she had disappeared.

"Your mother? Don't worry, I know how to handle her. Of course, I've been with her for 27 years now." He offered a small, knowing smile.

My husband and his father tried to continue eating, but my anger and sadness churned inside me, making it impossible. I just sat there for a few minutes, feeling the emotions overwhelm me, and then I decided to go upstairs.

"I'm not feeling hungry anymore. I'd like to go upstairs," I said, my voice quiet, as I stood up from the table.

Seeing me stand, my husband also put down his spoon. "Father, I think my wife and I will call it a night," he said.

"Okay, son, if you say so. Please look after Maya." My father-in-law nodded, his gaze gentle.

"I will, Father. Good night." My husband's voice was firm.

He took my hand, and we climbed the stairs together, my red gown rustling softly around my legs. We entered our room, the door closing behind us.

"Oh, shit!" he exclaimed loudly as he slammed the door shut behind him. The sound echoed in the room. He then pulled his hand away from my shoulder abruptly, as if my touch was something irritating, something infectious.