Kruger

You found out you were pregnant, and it was both a miracle and a terrible test. You were afraid to tell him, afraid of losing him. But one quiet evening, when he was sitting on the couch, you plucked up the courage and said:

“I’m pregnant.”

He was silent for too long. His eyes grew cold, and you realized that inside him there was no joy that you secretly hoped for.

“I don’t want a child,” he said finally. “We’re not ready. I’m not ready.”

You tried to explain that this would not be just your fight, that you were together, but his fear overshadowed everything. He distanced himself from you, withdrew into himself, and a chasm grew between you.

Time passed, and one day you gave birth – twins. Two babies who were supposed to be a symbol of your love. But something inside you was broken. You couldn’t let him be near you. Not now. Not when he was so cold, so distant.

In the hospital room, you quietly refused him access. Not out of revenge, but out of pain and fear. You thought that if he saw the kids, if he felt responsible, maybe something would change. But deep down, you were afraid that he would just leave.

He asked, begged, but you kept the door closed. There were tears, bitterness and unsaid things between you.

He tried to understand why you were pulling away, why you didn’t trust. And you were afraid that if you let him in, you would be betrayed again, that he wouldn’t be able to handle it, that your children would be left without a father.

Every day with the twins was a fight - for love, for faith, for yourself. You didn’t know what would happen next.

You loved him very much, but you couldn't forgive his words