З життя
Він знав правду, але мовчав, поки я втрачала себе в боротьбі та вірі
Це був мій біль. Гострий і глибокий, немов ніж у серці. Десять років я жила поряд із чоловіком, якого вважала своїм майбутнім, опорою, батьком своїх дітей. А виявилося — він брехав. Знав, що не може стати батьком. І мовчав. Роки я бігала по лікарях, клініках, терпіла уколы, вірила і плакала. А він лише дивився. І робив вигляд, що все гаразд.
Ми з Олегом зустрілися ще в юності — навчалися в одному ліцеї у Луцьку. Потім доля звела нас знову, і ми почали жити разом. Він чудово знав, що я мрію про будинок і дітей. Говорила про це з перших днів. Він посміхався, кивав, стверджував, що теж цього хоче. А я, наївна, вірила.
Одружилися скромно, але від душі. Почали копити на будинок. Працювали, як вуглярі, рік без передиху. Купили стареньку хатину біля Тернополя — з кривими вікнами і зарослим подвір’ям. Але ми були щасливі: хотіли все переробити, посадити сад, зробити затишне гніздечко.
Я тоді сказала, що не хочу чекати з дітьми. Бо якщо відкладати на потім, можна й не встигнути. Олег заперечував: «У декреті буде важко, а сам я не витягну». Я наполягла. Він погодився. Мабуть, тому що знав правду.
Перший рік — нічого. Другий — знову нічого. Я метушилася по лікарях. Аналізи, ліки, постійні огляди. Мені казали: «У вас все гаразд, просто підкоригуйте гормони». Я жила за графіком: коли їсти, коли пити таблетки, коли сподіватися. А потім — знову порожнеча.
Я благала Олега пройти обстеження. Він відмахувався: «У чоловіків такого не буває». Та згодом здав аналізи. Один. Приніс папір з печаткою: «Здоровий». Я повірила. А що лишалося?
Ми пробували далі. Шукали лікарів, обговорювали ЕКЗ. Але він раптом став проти: «Це не вірно. Давай візьмемо дитину з дитбудинку». Але я хотіла своє — рідне. Щоб була моя кров, мій погляд. Він відмовлявся, а я билася.
Через дев’ять років, коли будинок уже був готовий, коли, здавалося, не вистачало лише дитини, я знайшли нову клініку у Львові. Записалися обидва. Він супротивлявся. По дорозі ми посварилися. Я кричала, вимагала правди. Він мовчав.
А потім у кабінеті, коли я вже не стримувалася і ридала, він вимовив:
— Я не можу мати дітей. Я знав завжди.
Я не вірила. Кричала. Дивилася йому в очі і не розуміла — як можна було мовчати? Дивитися, як я страждаю, вірю, лечуся… роками.
Це була зрада. Гірша за будь-яку зраду. Він не просто обдурив мене — він відібрав у мене час. Найважливіший. Найродючіший. Я не пробачила. Наступного дня зібрала речі і пішла. Подала на розлучення.
Він дзвонить, пише, приходив до моєї сестри. Хоче «поговорити». Але я навіть дивитися на нього не можу. Якби він сказав правду тоді — ми могли б знайти вихід. Разом. Зараз. Але він вибрав брехню. Холодну, жорстоку, яка нищила мене зсередини.
Ця історія змінила мене. І я знаю: краще гірка правда відразу, ніж солодка брехня, яка руйнує твоє життя поступово.
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