Little did I know that what should have been a joyous occasion would turn into a nightmare. Michael had promised me he would be there, holding my hand as we brought our child into the world. We had planned every detail together, from the music in the delivery room to the tiny hat he would place on our baby’s head.

But when the moment came, Michael was nowhere to be found.

I remember the sympathetic smiles from the nurses as they assured me he was probably just delayed. But with each passing minute, the sinking feeling in my stomach grew worse. I had been calling him for hours, leaving desperate voicemails, but there was no response. As the contractions intensified, so did my fear. Was I really going to do this alone? What could have possibly kept him away?

When our daughter Emily finally arrived, I was overwhelmed with joy, but it was tainted by the glaring absence of the man who should have been by my side. My mother stayed with me, holding my hand where Michael should have been, but even she couldn’t hide the worry in her eyes. And if she knew anything, she wasn’t telling.

“Just focus on Emily now,” my mother gently advised. “Your body needs rest.”

“I know,” I replied, trying to mask my concern. “But I can’t stop worrying.”

Two days later, I was discharged from the hospital. My mother helped me carry Emily to the car, and we drove home in silence. My mind raced with possibilities, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for Michael’s absence. Maybe something happened at work, or perhaps he was in an accident and was in another hospital. The scenarios in my head grew more outlandish with each passing mile.

But nothing could have prepared me for what I found when we got home.

The house was eerily quiet as I pushed open the door, half-expecting Michael to be waiting inside with some excuse that I could forgive after seeing the look on his face.

“Michael?” I called out, my voice echoing through the empty rooms. “Michael, are you here?”

No answer.

Ignoring my mother’s caution to keep quiet so Emily could sleep, I hurried upstairs to check the nursery. We had spent weeks perfecting the room, and I hoped to find him there, waiting for us. But when I opened the door, my breath caught in my throat.

The room was almost empty. The crib remained, but all the decorations, stuffed animals, baby clothes, and blankets we had lovingly chosen together were gone. The only thing left was a single piece of paper, placed neatly inside the crib.

The note read:

“I love you and our baby, Elena. But I have to leave forever. Ask your mom why she did this. I’ve taken some of Emily’s things to remember you both.”

I stared at the note, struggling to comprehend the words. What did Michael mean? Why did he have to leave? And what did my mother have to do with any of this?

“Mom!” I shouted as I rushed down the stairs, ignoring the ache in my postpartum body. I clutched the note tightly as I confronted her in the living room, where she was sitting with Emily asleep in her arms.

“What is this?” I demanded, thrusting the note at her. “What did you do? Where is my husband?”

She looked at me with heavy eyes, and for a moment, I saw something in her expression—a flicker of guilt, maybe even regret.

“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” she said quietly.

“Find out what?” I nearly screamed, my exhaustion making me more desperate. “What are you talking about?”

She took a deep breath, as if preparing herself for the difficult truth she was about to reveal.

“I found out something about Michael, honey. And it was too big to keep to myself. He needed to know that I knew.”

“Knew what? Stop speaking in riddles!” I demanded, closing my eyes as a wave of exhaustion washed over me.

“He’s been having an affair, darling,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “With someone from his office. I confronted him about it, and he admitted it. He’s been seeing his boss—a woman much wealthier than we could ever dream. She’s been offering him things he couldn’t refuse.”

Her words hit me like a physical blow, and I had to sit down quickly. “No, Mom,” I found myself saying. “That can’t be true. Michael wouldn’t do that to us. He loves me! He was so excited about our baby, about growing our family.”

“I wish it weren’t true,” she continued softly. “I overheard him on the phone, making plans to meet her at a motel. I told him he had to tell you everything or leave for good. If he was willing to be honest with you, then he still had some decency left. But this note… it shows he chose to leave.”

I didn’t want to believe my mother. I wanted to believe there was more to the story. How could she have sat by my side during labor, knowing the truth? How could she keep this from me?

But then, I remembered how my mother had never truly warmed up to Michael. She tolerated him because he took care of me, but their relationship was always strained. Had she done something to drive him away?

I voiced these thoughts aloud, unable to stop myself.

“Really, Elena?” my mother cried, her eyes welling with tears. “You think I would hurt you like that? That I’d jeopardize your happiness? Michael made his own choices, and I tried to protect you. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

This couldn’t be happening. The man I trusted with my life had betrayed me, and my mother had taken away my chance to confront him, to try and fix things.

“You shouldn’t have taken that choice away from me,” I said, my voice shaking. “You should have let me decide.”

My mother reached out and gripped my hand tightly.

“I’m so sorry, Elena,” she said. “I only wanted to protect you. I didn’t want you to suffer any more than you already have. This pregnancy was hard enough on you.”

She seemed sincere, but I couldn’t shake my anger. Everything I believed in had been ripped away in an instant. My husband was gone, probably off with his mistress. My mother had betrayed my trust. And now, I was left alone with a newborn and a shattered heart.

Emily stirred and began to cry, her little face scrunching up in distress.

“She’s hungry,” my mother said softly. “Maybe one day, when Emily needs you to protect her more than give her a choice, you’ll understand why I did what I did.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak as I prepared to feed my baby.

“I’m sure you’re right, Mom,” I finally said. “But I need some space for now. I need to adjust to being a single parent.”

“You’re not alone, Elena,” my mother insisted. “Michael may have left, but I’m still here. I’ll support you and love you, and I’ll be there for Emily too.”

“I know,” I replied, my voice soft. “But this is the choice I’m making.”

“Let me at least make you some food before I go,” she offered. “Let me help you plan meals for the week. Please.”

I agreed, grateful for the help, even though I couldn’t bear to look at her.

In the days that followed, I replayed Michael’s behavior in my mind. Of course, he had been having an affair. The late nights, the dinners with “colleagues”—it all made sense now. I tried calling him several times, but it always went to voicemail. Until one day, he answered by accident, his voice thick with sleep.

“Michael?” I asked.

“Elena?” he gasped, surprised.

“Is it true?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“Yes,” he admitted. “It’s all true. I’m not coming back. I loved the idea of starting a life with you and our baby, but I’ve grown to love Gretchen and the life we have together. I have to give this a chance. I’ll transfer the house to your name. Gretchen’s lawyers will handle it.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

Michael never contacted me again, and I didn’t reach out either. He disappeared from my life as quickly as he had entered it. At least my daughter would never have to meet him or experience the pain he caused.

She was safe from Michael, and for that, I was grateful.

What would you have done?

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