At first, our marriage was full of dreams, but years of childlessness turned our home silent and our love into quarrels. We sought every cure in vain, and distance grew between us. Then I met Sofia—young, radiant, and pregnant. Believing her child was mine, I left my wife Mariana. She signed the divorce quietly, with sorrow but no blame.
Later, I learned Mariana was gravely ill. When I visited her, she revealed the truth: I was the one unable to have children. She had carried that burden alone to spare me pain. Her selfless love struck me harder than any betrayal. As she passed away weeks later, I realized I had abandoned the one who truly loved me, trading her devotion for an illusion.
At her grave, I finally understood—real happiness was never in the child I longed for, but in the quiet, unconditional love I had so carelessly thrown away.