My wife and daughters weren’t the sons I desired, so I left them.
Convinced that my wife and daughters weren’t what I had always desired, I left them. The sons I had envisioned were not these. However, my daughter’s words devastated me in a way I never could have imagined when I returned. 😱
My girls always greeted me first thing in the evening, and despite my growing annoyance, I faked a smile.
Why was I the only woman without a son in a family that had been dominated by men for generations?
My family was significant to me. There were sons born to my grandfather. My dad was a father to sons. In addition, I had three daughters.
The village was under a lot of pressure from murmurs. “Who is going to continue the family name?”
I was overjoyed when my wife became pregnant once more and the doctor informed us that it was a boy. I thought something would finally change at this very time. However, time revealed another reality to me.
The characteristics I identified in myself were not there in my son. His almond-shaped eyes, broad forehead, and fair complexion were very different from mine. I said icily, “Are you sure he’s my son?” one day because I couldn’t stand it any more.
She softly started crying without replying. And my oldest daughter, who is twelve years old, gave me a look that said louder than words.
I walked away without saying anything. with a younger woman who assured me she would have sons. I believed that things would improve.
But I came back one day in the rain. I was prepared to inform my wife that I would be permanently leaving this time. However, my daughters were the only ones seated in the living room when I arrived home. The quiet was deafening.
The hush was broken by my oldest daughter, who said, “Dad, Mom is.” I stood there stunned by what she had said. 😱
I opened the door and found my daughters sitting calmly. One sentence was spoken icily by our oldest daughter as she stepped forward and gestured toward the bedroom:
“Mom is gone, Dad. Come take one last look at me.
I was taken aback.
I hurried inside. The unfinished letter was still in my wife’s hands as she lay there, white as paper. The son was brought to a neighbor’s house. She had taken sedatives.
I cried for aid, screamed, and shook my wife. However, it was too late.
Just a few sentences made up the previous letter: “I’m very sorry. I believed my son would love me more, so I kept him.
However, I realized I had lost everything when you departed. Even though I can no longer be your woman, I would still like to be a mother to my children if there were another life.
I remained still on the ground with my head in my hands, listening to my daughter’s sobs reverberate like a knife inside my chest. And the mistress, she went into a frenzy when she realized that I was now a guy without a wife. She cut all connections and vanished into the darkness.
