Father Disowns Newborn Baby And Accuses Wife Of Cheating, Then Wife Does This
Days passed.
James grew quieter. Not the sleepy, new-parent kind of quiet, but a withdrawn, weighted silence.
He drifted through the rooms like a guest. He answered Emily’s questions with shrugs or short phrases. He sat at the dinner table pushing food around his plate, barely eating.
Whenever she mentioned their daughter—her sleeping schedule, the way she made tiny squeaks in her sleep—his shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly.
At first, Emily told herself he was exhausted. That the constant wake-ups and responsibility were hitting him differently.
But then there were the looks.
Sometimes he’d glance at her like she’d spoken a language he didn’t understand. As if something about her mere presence irritated him.
One evening, after finally easing the baby down into her crib, Emily found him sitting in the living room in the dark. The TV was off. The only light came from the glow of the streetlamp bleeding through the curtains.
“James?” she said softly.
He didn’t turn. “What?”
“You’ve barely said two words to me in days,” she said, arms folded around herself. “If something’s wrong, I need you to tell me.”
His jaw clenched. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“You don’t seem fine,” she pressed, voice gentle but firm.
He shot to his feet, pacing toward the window. “Not everything needs to be dissected, Emily.”
The sudden sharpness in his tone made her flinch. “I’m not dissecting anything. I’m asking my husband what’s going on.”
He faced her then, eyes strained, mouth a hard line. “You can’t ask for honesty when you’re not being honest yourself.”
The words landed like a physical blow.
“What is that supposed to mean?” she whispered.
He dragged a hand over his face. “Forget it. I just… I need space.”
“James, don’t do this,” she said, stepping toward him. “If you’re worried about something, talk to me.”
He snatched his keys from the counter. “I need to clear my head.”
“You’re not even going to tell me where you’re going?” she asked.
He paused at the doorway, still facing away. “Maybe that’s the problem,” he said quietly. “You always need to know everything.”
Before she could respond, the door slammed hard enough to rattle the frames on the wall.
Instinct shoved her into motion. She grabbed the baby monitor and ran barefoot down the hall. By the time she yanked open the front door, his car was already backing out of the driveway.
