When I pulled into the hospital parking lot that morning, my heart was full. I was there to bring my wife, Suzie, and our newborn twins home—a moment we’d been dreaming about for months. With flowers in one hand and a baby carrier in the other, I walked down the hallway thinking of our new life beginning.
But when I stepped into her hospital room, something was wrong.
Suzie wasn’t there.
Instead, I found a handwritten note on the pillow. It was from her.
“Goodbye. Take care of them. Ask your mother WHY she did this to me.”
I sat down, stunned. The nurses were as surprised as I was—no one had seen her leave. The twins were safe in the nursery, but Suzie was gone. I didn’t know what to think or feel.
I called my mother, hoping for answers. Her reaction was distant—strangely calm. She brushed it off and shifted the blame. But the truth began to surface later, in a small pocket of Suzie’s hospital bag, hidden behind a baby name book. I found six letters—each one handwritten by my mother.
The words were deeply hurtful. The letters criticized Suzie harshly, questioned her intentions, and expressed doubts about her place in our family. I realized she had been carrying this emotional weight quietly, without ever telling me.
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