Her Biggest Mistake Was Him

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence that grated on everyone. Even friends who had been trying to mediate got up and left.

My infertility was hardly a secret. Some people had even thrown it in my face to humiliate me, calling me impotent right to my face.

For the sake of my family, I'd learned to brush it off and pretend it didn't bother me. But hearing those same words come out of Lilibeth Saunders' mouth suddenly made me question whether any of it had been worth it.

Perhaps because I had stayed quiet too long, Lilibeth stood up.

"I won't stop you if you want a divorce, but don't think you're getting any of the money. Carl's counting on it."

Then, she turned to leave.

I drew a deep breath and blocked her path. "Mom's in the hospital right now, waiting for the money to pay for her surgery. This is a matter of life and death. Get the money back. Now."

Lilibeth's patience was wearing thin. "Do you not understand what I'm saying? I don't want my future child's father to end up in prison. What's a year or so for your mother's condition?"

She jerked her arm free from my grip.

Panic crept into my voice, raising it by a pitch. "You're the one who can't have children! You could go through a hundred men and still never get pregnant. Get the money back! It's your mother's cancer we're talking about! Your mother, Rosaline Darnell!"

Already at the door, Lilibeth paused. She turned around slowly, a cold smile curling her lips. Her eyes brimmed with mockery.

"Josiah Gibson, is that really the best excuse you can come up with? What, you think spinning some tale is going to restore your manhood? Groveling over money like this is downright pathetic! Honestly, you disgust me."

The door slammed shut behind her.

I stood there, taking in the messy room, and my gaze eventually settled on the crib out on the balcony. A flood of emotions washed over me.

We'd bought that crib a year into our marriage. Both of us loved children so much that we decided early on to start trying for one. But one year passed, then two, and nothing happened.

Eventually, we went to the hospital for tests.

The results showed that Lilibeth was the one who was infertile.

Considering we were both only children, and sensing that the immense pressure from parents and relatives to have a child would fall on Lilibeth, I made a request to the doctor.

That night, Lilibeth, who rarely cooked, made dinner and spoke to me gently. "It's okay. We can still be very happy even without children."

When I looked into her eyes and saw the love there, I silently vowed to keep the truth buried forever.

As time went on, the fact that we remained childless fueled more and more speculation. Eventually, the whispers turned into something everyone simply accepted as fact.

Once, while Lilibeth and I were strolling in the neighborhood, we overheard someone snickering and calling me impotent.

Lilibeth, who almost never argued with anyone, clenched her fists, stormed over, and demanded they apologize.