Each week, she left for “appointments with her gynecologist.” She mentioned them lightly, offering no details. I feared asking. But my worry grew—was she ill, or was she protecting us both from a private struggle?
Finally, one evening, I asked. Sitting together under the soft glow of a lamp, I said carefully, “You’ve been going to the doctor every week… is everything all right?”
The news washed over me like a wave. Joy, disbelief, shame, fear, and humility collided. All her quiet strength, her thoughtful notes, and meals had not been out of bitterness or calculation; she had been nurturing new life and shielding both of us with grace.
The Lesson in Forgiveness
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