I always thought that the happiest day of my life was the day I married Michael. But then we found out that I was pregnant, and I figured that the day I gave birth to our baby was going to be the happiest.

Little did I know that it would be the beginning of a nightmare. Michael had promised me that he would be there, holding my hand as we welcomed our first child into the world.

We had planned every detail together, from the music that would play in the delivery room to the tiny hat he would place on our baby’s head.

But when the time came, Michael just wasn’t there.

I remember the nurses’ sympathetic smiles as they assured me that he was probably just delayed. 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 about to do this by myself? What could have kept him from being here?

“Come on, Michael,” I said through gritted teeth.

When my daughter arrived, I was overwhelmed with joy, but it was tainted by the empty spot beside me where my husband should have been. Where was Michael? Why hadn’t he shown up?

My mother was with me throughout, holding my hand when Michael should have been, but I could see the worry in her eyes, too. And if she knew anything, she certainly didn’t tell me.

“Just relax, Elena,” my mother said. “Focus on Emily now. And yourself; your body needs a moment.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m just worried.”

After two days in the hospital, I was finally discharged. My mother helped me carry Emily to the car, and we headed home. The ride was silent, and my mother kept drumming her fingers against the steering wheel.

I tried to keep myself calm, telling myself that there must be a reasonable explanation for Michael’s absence. Maybe something happened at work. Maybe he’d had an accident and was away in another hospital.

The scenarios grew wilder with each mile we drove.

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

The house was eerily quiet. 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.

“Be quiet, Elena,” my mother said. “Emily is sleeping.”

I ignored her and hurried upstairs. I had to check the nursery; maybe he was in there, just waiting for us to come home. We had spent weeks perfecting our daughter’s nursery to exactly how I envisioned it throughout my pregnancy.

But when I opened the door to the nursery, my breath caught in my throat.

The room was almost empty. The crib was there, but all the decorations, the stuffed animals, our daughter’s outfits, and the blankets we had lovingly chosen together were gone. All that remained was a single piece of paper, placed neatly inside the crib.

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, my mind struggling to make sense of 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, trying to get down the stairs as fast as my postpartum body would allow. I clutched onto the note tightly as I thundered into the living room where she was sitting on the couch 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 a flicker of something I couldn’t quite place. Guilt? Regret?

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

“What? Find out what?” I nearly screamed at her. “What are you talking about? Tell me now!”

She took a deep breath as if steeling herself for what she was about to say.

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

“Knew what? Why are you talking in riddles?” I asked closing my eyes, suddenly exhausted.

“He’s been having an affair, darling,” she said. “With someone from his office. Imagine the nerve.”

The 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 at all. Michael wouldn’t do that to us. He loves me! And he’s been so excited about our baby and growing our little family!”