ONE MORE MINUTE
The clock ticked loudly in the background, a constant reminder of the hours passing by. Emily sat on the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the wall. Forty-five years old, and still, the empty silence that filled her life echoed the same loneliness she had known for decades. She had long since accepted the fact that she was barren, yet acceptance did not bring peace.
It had started in her early twenties, when her friends got married, one by one, and started families. The
joy on their faces as they announced pregnancies, shared pictures of baby showers, and exchanged
stories about motherhood, was always followed by a gentle question in Emily's direction: "When are you
going to have one of your own?" She would smile, shrug, and wave off the question with a forced laugh,
pretending that it didn’t hurt. But it always did. And when her body refused to give her what she wanted
most, the whispers behind her back became louder.
“Poor thing, she’s barren.”
“Can’t keep a man if you can’t give him a child.”
Even the relationships she tried to hold on to slipped through her fingers. Men didn’t stay long once
they realized she couldn’t give them children. They would pretend it didn’t matter at first, but it always
did. The hurt would always surface, turning their affection into bitterness until they left her for someoneelse. Someone fertile.
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