“Don’t worry, my dear. We’ll manage. I’ll marry. I’ll take a second wife. She’ll give me a child. And he’ll be your child too… Everything will be fine.”
I read this message lying in the hospital after a miscarriage.
I lost my child.
And he just decided to have another one.
No tears, no grief—only dry, cold words.
“You still can’t have a child.”
At that moment something in me died.
I left. I crossed out men. I shut my heart.
That’s how I ended up in the house of a man people were afraid of. The owner. Authoritative, dangerous—he was not someone you argue with.
He didn’t notice me. I wasn’t looking for his attention.
But one day he stopped me and said: “You will marry me.”
I ran from one marriage… to end up in another.