The house was quiet, but the air felt heavy. Goi sat at the edge of the bed with her hands clasped tightly together. Chik entered the bedroom with a frown, his tie loosened, his voice already full of irritation.
“Seven years, Goi,” Chik shouted, slamming his car keys onto the dresser. “Seven years of waiting, and still no child. Do you want me to die without an heir?”
Goi lifted her eyes slowly, her voice trembling. “Chik, I have tried. We have tried. It is not in my hands. Maybe we should see another doctor. Maybe there is still hope.”
“Hope?” Chik laughed bitterly. “Is that what you keep telling yourself? I am tired of hope. My mother calls me every day asking why you have not given me a son. My friends laugh behind my back. Do you know how it feels to be mocked as a man with no child? You have turned me into a fool.”
Goi’s eyes filled with tears. “Please don’t speak to me like that. I am your wife. We made vows before God. We said for better or for worse. Why do you throw this at me as if I am nothing?”
His voice rose even higher.
“Because you are nothing to me now. What is a woman who cannot bear children? You eat my food, wear my clothes, ride in my car, yet you cannot give me one son to carry my name. Goi, you are a curse in my life.”
Her lips shook as she tried to answer. “Don’t call me a curse. I have prayed. I have cried. I go to bed every night begging God to give us a child. I am not happy, Chik. Do you think this gives me joy? I am hurting too.”
Chik turned away and paced the room like a lion in a cage. “Enough of your tears. I am done waiting. I will not allow you to waste my life. Tomorrow I will speak to my lawyer. This marriage is over.”
Goi gasped as if the air had been punched from her chest. “Divorce? You will divorce me after everything? After I stood by you when you had nothing? After I left my family for you? Chik, have you forgotten the love we once had?”
He turned back, his face cold. “Love does not produce children. My mother was right. I should have left you long ago. I need a wife who can give me sons, not a woman who fills my house with silence. By tomorrow, I want you out of my house.”
Goi broke down, falling to her knees and clutching the edge of his trousers. “Please, Chik, don’t do this. Give me more time. Give us more time. God can still answer us.”
He pulled his leg away as if her touch disgusted him. “God has nothing to do with this. You are the problem, and I am tired. You will leave. That is final.”
The argument echoed through the house. The maids whispered among themselves, but none of them dared step inside.
Goi sobbed and tried one last time. “Chik, look into my eyes. Look at the woman who cooked for you, washed your clothes, prayed for you when you were sick. I have given you everything I could. Don’t throw me away like trash.”
But Chik’s heart was stone.
He picked up his phone and called his lawyer in front of her.
“Yes, Barrister Okeke. Prepare the papers. I want a divorce immediately. Yes, she will leave tomorrow.”
Goi stared at him in disbelief. “You already called your lawyer? You planned this?”
Chik looked down at her sharply. “Goi, you are a burden. I am freeing myself. If you have any self-respect, pack your things tonight. By morning, I do not want to see you here.”
She stood slowly, her body weak, her heart shattering into pieces. She walked to the wardrobe and began folding her clothes into a small bag. Her hands shook so badly she could barely close the zipper. Every dress carried a memory—birthdays, church services, quiet dinners—but now all of those memories felt like lies.
Chik stood there watching with his arms crossed. Not once did he move to stop her. Not once did his heart soften.
At last, Goi lifted the small bag and turned to him one final time. “One day, you will regret this. One day, you will see the truth. One day, you will understand what you have done.”
He did not answer. He looked away as if she had already disappeared.
With slow, painful steps, Goi walked out of the bedroom. Her slippers dragged across the marble floor. The house that had once felt like home now felt like a prison. She passed the maids, who lowered their heads, too afraid to meet her eyes. She pushed open the big front door, and the cool night air hit her face.
She paused and looked back at the mansion she had called home for seven years.
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