Father Disowns Newborn Baby And Accuses Wife Of Cheating, Then Wife Does This
“James!” she called, her voice tearing in the cold air.
He didn’t look back. The red glow of his taillights smeared against the wet street before disappearing into the dark.
For a long moment, Emily stood in the doorway, rain soaking her hair, the baby monitor buzzing softly in her hand.
Eventually, shivering, she closed the door and locked it.
Back at the kitchen table, she dialed his number. It rang twice, then went to voicemail. She tried again. And again.
By the fourth call, it went straight to a dead click. When she sent a message, it hung in gray, undelivered.
He had blocked her.
She sat there for hours, the house creaking around her, replaying every conversation, every glance, every moment she might have missed. Maybe he was overwhelmed. Maybe the dream he’d clung to for years didn’t feel the way he’d imagined now that it was real.
Or maybe, a colder voice whispered, he’d finally decided the dream had never been real to begin with.
The thought squeezed her chest until it hurt to breathe.
Somewhere before dawn, after another feeding and a half-hearted attempt at sleep, Emily found herself standing in their bedroom, staring at his side of the closet.
The faint scent of him clung to the air—aftershave, detergent, something familiar that now felt foreign.
She had never gone through his things. They didn’t snoop on each other. They trusted each other.
Or at least, she had.
Her hand shook as she slid hangers aside, checked the pockets of jackets, rummaged through the clutter on the shelf above his shoes. Receipts. A half-empty bottle of cologne. An old watch.
Then her fingers brushed paper.
She pulled out a folded slip, creased from having been carried and handled.
Riverton Diagnostics. Paternity DNA Panel. Balance: Paid.
The letters smeared as her eyes filled with tears, but the meaning was unmistakable.
He hadn’t left because he was scared of being a father.
He’d left because he believed he wasn’t one.
By morning, Emily was running on nothing but coffee and raw nerves. The baby dozed in her carrier, unaware, as Emily buckled her into the car seat with trembling hands.
She didn’t fully remember deciding to go. Only that one moment she was staring at the receipt on the table, and the next she was behind the wheel, knuckles white, the city sliding past in gray streaks.
