It took five grueling years, but we finally brought Ceppetelli Co. back to life.
On our wedding night, he told me he never wanted children—his step-brother’s betrayal had scarred him too deeply. Without hesitation, I got my tubes tied.
A year later, when our parents started pressuring us for kids, I stood firm. I let them believe I was infertile, even showing them a medical diagnosis.
From that moment on, they forced endless herbal remedies and supplements on me.
One night, as I forced myself to swallow yet another bitter cup of tonic, Brent pulled me into his arms, his voice full of concern.
“Cammie, I should tell them the truth before this harms you.”
I looked up at him intently.
“Are you sure you can handle the pressure? Not wanting kids and not being able to have them aren’t the same thing.
“No matter what you decide, I’ll support you.”
Brent hesitated.
Back then, I told him that if he ever stopped being afraid—if he truly wanted a child—I’d go through surgery again so we could have our own baby.
And he agreed.
Ten years ago, his parents suddenly stopped pushing us. His mother stopped rolling her eyes at me and stopped forcing me to take meds.