#Chapter399
These are things people figure out before they marry someone, and here we are, already invested and now I’m thinking about the fact I should have told him this already.
Babies! Not a fucking chance in hell.
He won’t know, unless he did read all my journals, but even then. I wouldn’t say it was obvious from those diary excerpts that my inability to have kids was permanent or even a blessing. I went over the abortion and such and the after-effects and recovery, but I don’t think I ever spelt it out, in black and white, that my body no longer produces eggs for any chance of fertilisation.
How do you tell the man cradling a newborn like he was born to do so if that’s where his hopes lie then it won’t happen with me?
How do I tell him that I can’t give him this and wouldn’t want to even if I could?
Is this what he wants?
The happy 2.4 children, family home and Carrero expected happily ever after?
