“Seven years, Goi!” he shouted, slamming his car keys onto the dresser. “Seven years of waiting, and still nothing! Do you want me to die without an heir? Without anyone to carry my name?”
Goi lifted her gaze slowly, her voice trembling but steady. “Chik, we have tried everything. I have prayed, fasted, seen every specialist you suggested. It is not in my hands alone. Maybe we should try one more clinic. There is still hope—”
“Hope?” Chik laughed bitterly, the sound ugly and sharp. “I am tired of your hope, woman. My mother calls me every single day asking why you cannot give me a son. My friends laugh behind my back. They call me ‘the man with the empty house.’ You have turned me into a joke!”
Tears slipped down Goi’s cheeks. “Please don’t speak to me like that. I am your wife. We stood before God and made vows — for better or for worse. Why are you throwing this at me as if I chose this pain?”
Chik paced the room like a caged animal. “Because you are nothing to me now! What is a woman who cannot bear children? You eat my food, wear my clothes, sleep in my bed, but you cannot give me one son. Goi, you are a curse in my life!”
The words cut deeper than any knife.
Goi’s lips trembled. “Don’t call me a curse. I have cried more tears than you will ever know. I lie awake every night begging God for a miracle. This pain is mine too, Chik. But I never stopped loving you.”
He turned away, refusing to look at her. “I am done. Tomorrow I will call my lawyer. This marriage is finished.”
---
The divorce was swift and brutal.
