I was just a young woman when I met that scoundrel. He treated me wonderfully, showering me with praise and behaving like the perfect gentleman. But as soon as he got what he wanted, he vanished from my life without so much as a backward glance. The end of our affair left me utterly devastated, but at the time, I had no inkling of the consequences our meetings would bring. I was stunned when I discovered I was expecting. At first, I told no one.
But as my condition progressed, it became impossible to hide, especially as I was already four months along. With a heavy heart, I gathered the courage to confide in my mother. She wasted no time in telling my father. From him, I received nothing but accusations and harsh words.
Driven by fear of disgrace, my parents insisted I terminate the pregnancy, despite the danger it posed to my health. I agreed reluctantly and, in the days that followed, I wept bitterly, haunted by a sense of betraying my own child. To this day, I seek forgiveness from God for what I did. My world seemed to stop turning. I longed only for death. My parents, meanwhile, showed neither comfort nor concern, preoccupied solely with maintaining their standing in the eyes of the village.
Afterwards, I resolved to leave their house behind; it took nearly two years, but at last I made my escape. I completed my studies and forged a successful career for myself.
In the end, I achieved everything I once dared only to dream of. Yet, there remains one thing I have never managed to obtain, no matter how much wealth I accumulated: a family of my own. That was the one joy forever lost to me, for I had long since been robbed of the chance to become a mother. I dated, received offers of marriage, but each time a man learned of my infertility, he disappeared without another word.
For this, I lay all the blame at my parents’ door. They took from me the very chance to experience the happiness of motherhood. I refused all contact with them; I could not even bear to see their faces. When my father suffered a heart attack and my mother begged me to care for him, I turned her away. They had betrayed me. Now, perhaps to soothe my conscience, I send them money each month. But in my heart I know this: parents ought to support their children, not shun them in their darkest hours. My parents never realised the harm they wrought.
