Gloria wanted grandchildren with an obsession that bordered on cruelty. As the years passed and Linda still was not pregnant, Gloria grew sharper, colder, and more vicious. She would sit in their living room and say things like, “Maybe you were never meant to be a real wife,” or, “Daniel could have married a woman who could actually give him a family.”
Linda tried to ignore it. She smiled when she could. Stayed quiet when she could not. But cruel words do not simply vanish. They take root. They grow.
Every time Linda looked in the mirror, she saw failure. Every time her period came, she felt ashamed in a way no one should ever feel over their own body. Daniel tried to comfort her. He held her when she cried. He told her they could adopt, that there were other ways to become parents, that she was enough exactly as she was.
But grief distorts everything. Linda could no longer tell whether she was seeing him clearly or only through the haze of her own shame.
Two years passed that way. Two years of failed hope, Gloria’s poison, and Linda’s private belief that she was ruining the life of the man she loved.
Then Daniel came home one evening with an idea.