Her question pierced me to the core. It had been more than a year since our divorce, so the child couldn’t be mine. Yet… why had she never become pregnant during our three years of marriage?
Did that mean the problem had been me?
Without hesitation, Reema turned and said,
“We couldn’t have a child for three years. I kept asking him to get tested, but he always blamed me. Every test I took came back fine. After the divorce, I met a good man, married him… and on our very first night, I became pregnant.”
Her words were so shocking that the wedding bouquet slipped from Anaya’s hands. I stood there, stunned and speechless.
After Reema left, I tried to explain to Anaya that we should first complete the wedding rituals and then discuss everything else. But she refused firmly. She said,
“My brother and his wife couldn’t have a child for nine years. They spent millions of pesos on treatment and still had no result, and eventually got divorced. I will not repeat that story. A failed marriage diminishes a woman’s life. I don’t want my first marriage to be with a man who might not even be able to be a father.”
I had no right to complain to either Reema or Anaya.
My ruin was the consequence of my own selfishness, my own decisions, and my own mistakes.
What I had sown… I was now reaping.
Had I treated my first wife with honesty and respect, perhaps I wouldn’t be standing here in such a miserable state today.