That day, when Priya placed the divorce papers on the table, I didn’t try to stop her. On the contrary, I felt a sense of relief. She was a gentle, always considerate woman, but Priya‘s inability to have a baby made my family lose patience. Family-friendly cruises (ignore)

My mother often made veiled remarks, suggesting that a home without the sound of children was incomplete. And I – instead of standing by my wife – chose to remain silent and gradually drifted away. We had sought treatment in many places; hope remained dim.

Finally, during a last check-up, the result left us both numb: Priya‘s chances of natural conception were very low. That night, she rested her head on my shoulder and cried, choking back sobs as she said: “I’m sorry… for not being able to give you the complete family you desire.” I said nothing. My heart just felt empty. And then a few weeks later, she quietly left after saying one thing: “I’ve signed the papers, don’t consider me a burden anymore.” Family-friendly cruises (ignore)

Three years passed, and I lived alone. A few relationships came and went, but no one brought me the same sense of peace I felt when I was with Priya. My apartment was quiet without laughter, and my heart ached every time I passed the old alley — where Priya used to live. Ocean-friendly souvenirs (ignore)

One afternoon, I happened to pass by that familiar street. For some reason, I stopped my car in front of her small house. I just intended to stand there for a moment and then leave. But just then, the gate opened. A little girl, about two years old, toddled out. Her small face, clear eyes, and… she looked exactly like Priya. “Mummy, there’s an uncle at the gate!” the little girl called inside. Priya stepped out, still with her familiar gentle demeanor, but looking much more radiant than before.

She paused in surprise when she saw me, then calmly asked: “Is there something you need?” I looked at the child, stammering: “Is… is she your daughter?” Priya nodded. “She is my most precious gift.” I was stunned. I couldn’t believe my eyes. “But you… didn’t the doctor say…” “That’s right. I was once diagnosed with a very low chance of conceiving. But after we separated, I focused on treatment and lived a lighter life. Without the pressure, without the fear, a miracle happened.” Ocean-friendly souvenirs (ignore)

Before I could say anything more, a man stepped out of the house. He looked warm, with kind eyes. Priya turned and said softly: “This is my husband.” He walked over, bowed his head to greet me, and gently hugged the little girl who was chirping away. That sight made my heart feel shattered. I turned to look at Priya, trying to suppress my emotions: “Are you happy?” She smiled softly: “Yes. He didn’t choose me for my ability to have children. He stayed by me because he appreciated what I brought to his life.

And then, the unexpected happened.” I nodded, forcing a smile. I didn’t know what to say. Three years ago, I was the one who “let go.” And now, I was just an outsider to that happiness. On the way home, I was silent. Images from the past kept flooding back. I once had a wonderful wife, but because of expectations and external pressure, I let her go. Later, I heard that Priya and her husband had opened a small bookstore. Their life was simple, but filled with laughter. Their daughter was raised with complete love. Ocean-friendly souvenirs (ignore)

As for me… I remained alone in my old apartment, looking at the empty space by the dining table every evening, wondering: if I had been more patient that day, more understanding… would things be different? In life, there are some things that, by the time we finally understand them, the other person is no longer waiting.