My daughters were sleeping in their bassinets, but Suzie was gone. I thought she might have stepped out for fresh air, but then I saw the note. I tore it open, my hands trembling. “Goodbye. Take care of them. Ask your mother WHY she did this to me.” The world blurred as I reread it. And reread it. The words didn’t shift, didn’t morph into something less terrible. A coldness prickled along my skin, freezing me in place.

My sorrow and longing for my missing wife deepened as I looked through her things. I found her jewelry box in the closet and set it aside, then noticed a slip of paper peeking out beneath the lid.

When I opened it, I found a letter to Suzie in my mother’s handwriting. My heart pounded as I read:

“Suzie, you’ll never be good enough for my son. You’ve trapped him with this pregnancy, but don’t think for a second you can fool me. If you care about them, you’ll leave before you ruin their lives.”

My hand shook as I dropped the letter. This was it. This was why she’d left. My mother had been tearing her down behind my back. I replayed every interaction, every moment I’d dismissed as harmless. How blind had I been?

It was almost midnight, but I didn’t care. I went to the guest room and banged on the door until Mom opened it.