Father Disowns Newborn Baby And Accuses Wife Of Cheating, Then Wife Does This
The pregnancy wasn’t kind to her.
Morning sickness ignored its own name and lingered from dawn until night. Her ankles ballooned, her back ached, and her moods swung wildly, crashing between elation and sudden, inexplicable tears.
But James… James was different now.
He brewed ginger tea and pressed it into her hands. He rubbed her shoulders while she groaned on the couch, hair tied messily away from her damp neck. He held her hair back over the toilet, murmuring useless but gentle reassurances.
He rescheduled meetings to come to every appointment. He never complained.
For the first time in years, Emily let herself believe that they might actually be okay.
The contractions started on a stormy afternoon in March.
The sky darkened far too early, thunder rumbling like distant footsteps. By the time James grabbed the overnight bag and helped her into the car, rain was slamming the windshield so hard the wipers could barely keep up.
He drove with one hand white-knuckled on the steering wheel, the other wrapped around hers. “Breathe,” he whispered, as if he wasn’t gasping himself.
Labor blurred into a mess of hours and pain. Monitors beeped, nurses floated in and out like ghosts in pale scrubs. Someone adjusted an IV. Someone else murmured, “You’re doing great,” in a voice that sounded far away.
Eventually the pain tunneled everything else out. Emily felt hands on her, heard someone shout instructions, and then—nothing.
When consciousness returned, the room was dim. Her body felt hollowed out and heavy, as if something enormous had been dragged through her and left behind.
For a moment she didn’t know where she was.
Then she heard it—a soft, quivering cry.
She turned her head. James stood with his back to her, shoulders hunched, beside a clear plastic crib. Rain tapped steadily against the window, filling the silence between each tiny sob.
“James,” she croaked, her throat raw. He didn’t move.
“Is she okay?” she tried again.
He turned slowly. His face was pale, his eyes too dark. In his arms, a small bundle shifted, wrapped tight in a white blanket.
Emily’s chest squeezed with something too big for words. “Let me see her.”
He hesitated. Just for a second—but the hesitation sliced through the haze. Something sharp flashed in his gaze before he smoothed it away.
