His lips trembled.
“I don’t know how to answer that.”
I nodded slowly.
“That’s the problem, Kelly. You don’t know how to answer the questions that matter. But you always know how to blame me.”
He began to cry.
I had seen him cry only twice in our six years together.
The first time was when his father died.
The second was when he believed we might finally have a child.
Now he was crying because he had lost control of a life he had spent months trying to manage through lies.
“Please come home,” he whispered. “We can start again.”
I looked at him for a long time.
Then I asked the question I had been afraid to ask.
“What would happen if I never gave birth?”
He froze.
I continued.
“What if we tried for another five years and still had no child? Would you respect me? Would you protect me? Would you stand beside me when people insulted me?”
