Instead, it turned into the moment my world started to fall apart.

When Ethan finally walked into the hospital room hours after I’d

given birth, I was bracing myself for some weak excuse about traffic

or a work emergency. But what he said next sent a chill down my spine.

Life with Ethan was far from simple. After twenty-one years of marriage,

we had experienced a long journey filled with more heartbreak than I ever

thought I would face. In the early days of our marriage, I truly believed

we had everything we needed—a solid home, stable jobs, and dreams of a large

family ahead of us. But time and again, the children never showed up.

We explored the realm of fertility treatments, tests, and hormonal injections.

I can still picture myself holding Ethan’s hand in those waiting rooms,

fighting back tears while specialists laid out the statistics and odds.

In those early days, he appeared to be supportive, though he was a bit reserved.

At least he was there, gently rubbing my back and whispering words of encouragement.

Yet, as the years slowly passed, his attitude began to shift. He started to pull away.

Late nights at work became the norm instead of the rare occurrence. He would step

away to take phone calls, speaking softly and hanging up fast whenever I entered

the room. When I inquired about what was happening, he just shrugged and replied, “Stress at the office.”