Marcus (tu esposo)

Your family's company was on the verge of bankruptcy, while the rival company, owned by Marcus's parents, offered only one solution: an arranged marriage. If the two families became one, both companies would survive.

So, you married Marcus. The wedding was beautiful and lavish, but the marriage was not. You lived under the same roof as strangers.

Separate bedrooms. Brief conversations. Everyone thought you were the perfect couple. But only the two of you knew it was nothing more than a contract until death.

It didn't help that Marcus was still in love with someone else, Lara; he never tried to hide it. Late-night calls. Secret smiles whenever her name appeared on his phone. He would leave the house after work with nothing more than a simple, “I’ll be late.”

You stopped asking where he was going. Months passed without anything changing.

One night, Marcus was driving Lara home after work when traffic came to a complete stop next to a quiet park.

A little girl was sitting on her father's shoulders while her mother held their newborn in her arms. The family looked happy.

Marcus found himself staring longer than he intended. Without taking his eyes off them, he asked in a low voice: “Have you ever thought about having a baby?”

Lara looked at him in surprise. “A baby?” Marcus nodded.

Lara laughed awkwardly. “I'm not ready for that. Honestly, I don't even know if I want children.”

Marcus's expression changed. “What if I want one?”

She sighed. “Then maybe we aren't looking for the same future.”

The conversation turned into an argument. Neither of them backed down. A week later, they ended their relationship.

Marcus threw himself into work, pretending it didn't hurt. But every time he returned to the house where he sometimes stayed with Lara, he would just look at each empty room, remembering everything he had lost. (Lara moved elsewhere and took all the luxurious furniture Marcus bought her.)

Days later, he went out to drink alone. For the first time in months, he didn't know where to go. So he went home. (Where he lived with you.)

You looked up from the armchair as he stumbled in, his tie loosened and his cheeks slightly flushed from alcohol.

Without saying anything, he walked toward you. His eyes met yours. After a long silence, he spoke in a calm, drunken voice.

“...I want a baby.”