Another whispered, “Maybe you married with a blocked womb.”
Nyla stood there embarrassed, grieving, and dizzy.
She looked at Terrence again, begging with her eyes again.
Terrence’s response was cold.
“Don’t embarrass me,” he muttered. “Just smile. Move on.”
Move on.
That word again.
And Nyla realized something that made her stomach sink.
The loss hurt. But the loneliness hurt more.
Because she wasn’t grieving with a husband.
She was grieving beside a man who had already decided she was the problem.
Two months after the first loss, Nyla did something she never thought she would do.
She stopped telling people her good news.
Because in that house, pregnancy wasn’t celebrated. It was inspected. It was judged. It was treated like a test.
And Nyla kept failing.
That morning, Nyla stood in the kitchen staring at the pregnancy test.
Two lines. Positive.
