After Years of Waiting, He Abandoned Us the Next Day
I had waited so long for this moment—through heartbreak, loss, and hope that barely clung on. And then, finally, my daughters were born. Three tiny miracles: Sophie, Lily, and Grace. They were perfect.
As I sat in my hospital bed, gazing at their peaceful faces in the bassinets, my heart swelled with a love I’d never known. I wiped away tears, overwhelmed by joy. That’s when Jack walked in.
He looked… off. His face was pale, eyes vacant. He lingered by the doorway like he didn’t belong in the room.
“Jack?” I motioned to the chair beside me. “Come sit. Look at them. We did it—they’re here.”
He barely glanced at the girls. “Yeah… they’re beautiful.”
But his voice was hollow.
A knot formed in my stomach. “Jack, what’s wrong?”
He inhaled deeply, then exhaled with a shudder. “Emily… I don’t think we can keep them.”
The words hit like a knife to the chest. “What are you talking about?” My voice trembled. “They’re our daughters.”
Jack turned away, unable to meet my eyes. “My mom… she saw a fortune teller.”
I blinked. “What?”
“She said the girls would bring misfortune. That they’d ruin my life… even kill me.”
I stared at him, stunned. “They’re babies, Jack. You can’t be serious.”
He shook his head, haunted. “My mom believes it. She’s always trusted this fortune teller. She’s been right before.”
“Jack,” I whispered, fury rising. “You’re abandoning our daughters because of a superstition?”
He looked torn, heartbroken—and afraid. “If you take them home… I won’t be there. I’m sorry, Emily.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “If you walk out that door, don’t come back.”
He paused at the threshold, one last look in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Em.”
Then he left.
I sat in silence, staring at the empty doorway, my chest aching. A nurse entered, saw the devastation on my face, and gently touched my shoulder. I gathered my strength—and my daughters.
I looked down at Sophie, Lily, and Grace. “Don’t worry, girls,” I whispered, touching their tiny heads. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”
The first weeks were brutal. Jack was gone. I was exhausted. Caring for three newborns alone felt impossible. But I kept going—for them.
Beth, Jack’s sister, was the only one who stayed in touch. One afternoon, she watched the babies so I could shower. I returned to find her pacing the living room, lips pressed tight.
“Emily…” she hesitated. “I overheard Mom and Aunt Carol talking. There was no fortune teller.”
The world stopped.
“What?”
Beth nodded, eyes glassy. “Your mother-in-law made it up. She thought having the girls would take Jack away from her. She figured if she scared him enough, he’d stay close.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. I had to set Grace down—my hands were shaking too hard.
“She lied,” I whispered. “She destroyed our family for her own fear.”
Beth laid a hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I don’t think she expected Jack to actually leave. But you deserve the truth.”
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to scream, to confront her—but more than anything, I needed to tell Jack.
The next morning, I called him.
“Jack, it’s me. We need to talk.”
He hesitated. “Emily… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Just listen. There was no fortune teller. Your mother lied.”
Silence.
“That’s not true,” he finally said. “She wouldn’t lie like that.”
“She admitted it to Carol. Beth heard everything.”
Still, he clung to denial. “My mom knows what she’s doing. She’s never lied to me before.”
“Then why would she suddenly believe triplet babies are cursed?” I snapped, trying to stay composed. “They’re your daughters, Jack.”
Another long silence.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I can’t.”
And then he hung up.
The following weeks blurred together—diapers, feedings, aching loneliness. But with help from friends and a few family members, I found my rhythm.
Every coo, every smile, every tiny grip of their hands reminded me what mattered. Slowly, the gaping wound left by Jack began to heal.
Then one afternoon, there was a knock.
It was Jack’s mother.
She looked smaller somehow—ashamed, broken. “Emily,” she whispered, eyes full of regret. “I never meant for this to happen.”
I crossed my arms. “You lied. You told your son his babies were a curse.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “I was afraid. I thought he’d forget about me. I never imagined he’d leave.”
I shook my head. “Your fear cost me my marriage. My girls lost their father.”
She looked down, voice cracking. “I’m so sorry.”
I said nothing. She left. I closed the door behind her—angry, but strangely lighter.
A year later, Jack showed up on my doorstep.
He looked like a ghost of the man I once loved. Hollow-eyed. Regretful.
“I made a mistake,” he whispered. “Please… I want to come back. I want to be a family again.”
I looked him in the eye—no hatred, just clarity.
“I have a family, Jack. You weren’t there when we needed you. And now… we don’t need you.”
I closed the door.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt free. He didn’t ruin his life because of a curse or a lie. He did it himself.
And me? I had my girls. I had love. I had everything.
