Empty Vows

Never in my wildest dreams did I envision tying the knot with him. "I, Rome Oliver Uytengco, promise to be your honest, faithful, and loving husband for the rest of my days. I pledge to honor you, love you, and cherish you as my wife today and every day." Marrying Rome feels like a surreal dream, one I wouldn't want to end. I'm sure my 11-year-old self would be ecstatic to know who she'd end up with. "I, Anastasia Celeste Yu, promise to be your honest, faithful, and loving wife for the rest of my days. I pledge to honor you, love you, and cherish you as my husband today and every day," I wholeheartedly declared while gazing into his eyes. This arranged marriage doesn't seem so bad after all. I owe my gratitude to my grandparents for setting it up. This arranged marriage turned out to be the one good thing they did for me. "In the name of the Holy Spirit, I now solemnly declare you husband and wife. Let no one put asunder those that have been joined together today in the presence of almighty God. You may now kiss the bride," announced the priest. Now, I am Anastasia Celeste Yu Uytengco. It feels like my life has found purpose, and my decision to embrace it is validated. As he lifts the veil, a new life with him unfolds before me. When our lips touched, I envisioned different scenarios in my head. What would our children look like? I wondered if it would be a boy or a girl. I hoped they inherited Rome's captivating eyes. I thought marriage would alter the way I perceive things and heal my inner self, bringing purpose to my life, as they often say. But, I guess I was mistaken. The initial six months of our marriage were filled with fun and love-making. However, a year passed, and Rome underwent a sudden change. "Hon, where are you going?" I asked with worry, fresh from a small fight earlier. In a hurry, he donned his coat and grabbed his car keys. "To a place far from you," he coldly declared before shutting the door. It was just a minor disagreement, and I was still adjusting to his temperament. Suspecting someone else might be involved, I checked his phone during his shower, believing I had the right as his wife. His reaction was furious, almost throwing his phone. Despite being aware of Rome's anger issues, I still feared what he might do when angered. "I know privacy is important to you, Rome, but I'm your wife. I have the right. Besides, I was just checking your phone because it kept vibrating." "Then let it be! You want every right. You have all of my social media passwords. You even got my co-workers' phone numbers just to check on me! What more do you want? Do you want me to put your face on my social media profile and change my name to yours? You're meddling too much!" Balancing my pride and the fear of losing him weighed heavily on me. Eventually, I decided to let my guard down. Taking a deep breath, I reached for his hand, confessing, "I don't want to lose you, Rome. You're all I have." "I want this marriage to succeed. I want us to work. For that to happen, let's communicate and compromise," I implored. "I've felt unappreciated lately, hon. Your actions are hurting and confusing me. It seems like you're pulling away." "Oh, so I'm on the wrong side of the road again? It's always me!" he retorted, turning away to get dressed. Shaking my head, I attempted to reach out to him. "I'm not saying you're lacking. I just want to know if I did something to upset you so I can make amends. What happened, Rome? We were fine after the wedding, and then suddenly, you changed. You're so close, yet so hard to reach." I explained calmly. He faced me and approached slowly. "There's no problem, but you're looking for one. Your drama is the problem. If you're going to be this dramatic, don't involve me. You're just a wife, Ana. Your role is to have children, take care of them, and have more children. It's not your role to control my life," he snapped. As expected, he stormed out of the house. This routine of leaving during arguments, only to return as if nothing happened, had become exhausting and frustrating. Addressing the issues was futile. Despite my hopes that having a child would change him, his behavior remained unchanged. Rome showed enthusiasm about fatherhood, but it seemed all my efforts were in vain. One year into marriage, and nothing had changed. In desperation, I sought consultation from an OB-Gyne, hoping for a solution to boost fertility. Even if it meant borrowing money for expensive medications, I was willing. A few days later, the crushing truth was revealed. "I'm sorry about the results, Mrs. Uytengco." I am infertile. The weight of the realization left me in anguish. Why me? Why, out of all people, did I have to be deprived of the chance to be a mother? I secluded myself, not eating for a week, trapped in a room. Rome noticed my drastic change but remained unaware of the infertility results. I feared his reaction and being left behind. Surprisingly, he took care of me, filed a leave to be by my side, and, for a while, I felt appreciated again. After this incident, Rome became sweeter, reminiscent of the early days of our marriage. Our trips together were more frequent, and he even suggested renewing our vows in the States. I felt alive once more. Yet, the specter of infertility lingered, leading me to broach the topic of adoption. Unfortunately, he staunchly opposed it, desiring biological children. The realization that I couldn't fulfill his dream of fatherhood shattered me. I prayed he wouldn't discover the truth until I found a solution to infertility. But, as they say, no secret can remain hidden. "Are you barren?" he questioned abruptly. I was engrossed in cleaning our room when he broached the subject, holding some papers that startled me. "Are you barren?" he repeated. Panic surged through me. I observed him closely, fearing that one wrong word could trigger an explosion. "Where did you find that?" I asked, trembling. "Answer me, Ana! Are you barren?" he shouted, catching me off guard. Tearfully, I admitted, "Yes! Yes, Rome. I'm infertile. I can't bear a child." Witnessing his reaction, I wished I could vanish. He threw the papers in front of me before storming out. Desperate, I knelt and clung to his knees. "Please. Please don't leave me, Rome," I pleaded. "You're all that I have." His voice softened but remained firm as he asked, "When did you find out?" "Last year. I went to an OB-Gyne, and the results revealed that I'm infertile," I confessed. As he attempted to break free, I summoned all my strength to keep him close, fearing he might not return once he left our home. "I couldn't admit it to you, Rome, because I was scared. Scared that you'd leave me once you found out I'm barren," I cried. "I know how much you want to be a father. I'm sorry for my shortcomings as your wife. I swear I'm doing my best to fulfill that role." He managed to break free and left the house. Uncertain if he would return, I clung to hope. Our second wedding anniversary loomed next 2 months, and I believed he would be back. He never missed our anniversary night. During his absence, I explored every possibility, seeking a remedy to my infertility. I consulted renowned healers in our town and neighboring areas, participated in processions, and fervently prayed for the chance to conceive. As our second anniversary approached, I prepared everything, including myself in just a robe. His text announcing his return spurred me to put extra effort into the preparations. When the door opened, I stood up, clad only in the robe, and greeted him with a seductive "Happy 2nd anniversary, hon." Anticipating a kiss and embrace, I met his widened eyes. But he didn't. Taking my robe, he placed it back on me. I felt hurt and bewildered. Rome usually couldn't resist when I acted this way. "We need to talk," he said seriously, making me nervous. "Let's talk later. I miss you. Let's kiss and f**k now," I attempted to lighten the mood, reaching for him. However, he avoided my kiss and slightly pushed me away. Instead, he handed me an envelope, remaining silent and waiting for me to open it. Hoping against hope, I unfolded the papers inside. It was divorce papers. "R-Rome, what is this?" "Can't you read?" he sarcastically replied. I shook my head. "No. No. Please, don't do this to me. I-I can't handle this, Rome," tears began to flow. "Well, you better figure things out by now." Suddenly, someone approached – Audrey, my younger sister. "Ana..." I was shocked by her sudden visit. I hadn't heard from Audrey since the wedding because she went to Italy with her so called boyfriend. "Why are you here?" I asked. My surprise deepened when Rome held Audrey's hand and positioned her behind him, as if protecting her. "Ana, I’m sorry..." Audrey called out, her voice filled with tears. Confusion overwhelmed me. "What does this mean?" "Sign those divorce papers for quick processing," Rome demanded. In disbelief, I raised my hands. I couldn't handle this. "Why? Why are you so eager to have me sign these divorce papers? I don't want this. I have no intention of signing—" "Audrey is pregnant with my child! I don't want any shame. I will marry Audrey as soon as possible, or even before her belly starts to show. Now, sign those papers and get out of my sight!"