For 11 long years, my marriage was a battlefield of silence, tears, and shame. Every month, I bled, and every month, I died inside. The whispers from my in-laws, the mocking eyes of neighbors, and the cold distance from my husband became my daily punishment.They called me “barren.” They said my womb was cursed.
They said I was less of a woman. What they didn’t know is that I cried myself to sleep every night, clinging to the hope that one day, I would hold a baby in my arms.My husband, at first, stood by me. He would say, “Don’t listen to them, love. God’s time is best.” But slowly, the pressure ate him alive. To read more,click here
