I didn’t want to believe my mother. I wanted to think there was more to the story. How could she have stayed by my side during labor, knowing the truth? How could she keep this from me?
Then I remembered how my mother had never fully accepted Michael. She tolerated him because he took care of me, but their relationship was always strained. Had she done something to drive him away?
I voiced these thoughts aloud, unable to stop myself.
“Really, Elena?” my mother cried, tears welling in her eyes. “You think I would hurt you like that? That I’d jeopardize your happiness? Michael made his own choices, and I tried to protect you. I thought I was doing the right thing.”
This couldn’t be happening. The man I trusted had betrayed me, and my mother had taken away my chance to confront him, to try to fix things.
“You shouldn’t have taken that choice away from me,” I said, my voice trembling. “You should have let me decide.”
My mother reached out and gripped my hand tightly.
“I’m so sorry, Elena,” she said. “I only wanted to protect you. I didn’t want you to suffer any more than you already have. This pregnancy was hard enough on you.”
She seemed sincere, but my anger remained. Everything I believed in had been shattered. My husband was gone, likely with his mistress. My mother had betrayed my trust. And now, I was left alone with a newborn and a broken heart.
Emily stirred and began to cry, her little face scrunching up in distress.
“She’s hungry,” my mother said softly. “Maybe one day, when Emily needs you to protect her more than give her a choice, you’ll understand why I did what I did.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak as I prepared to feed my baby.
“I’m sure you’re right, Mom,” I finally said. “But I need some space for now. I need to adjust to being a single parent.”
“You’re not alone, Elena,” my mother insisted. “Michael may have left, but I’m still here. I’ll support you and love you, and I’ll be there for Emily too.”
“I know,” I replied softly. “But this is the choice I’m making.”
“Let me at least make you some food before I go,” she offered. “Let me help you plan meals for the week. Please.”
I agreed, grateful for the help, even though I couldn’t bear to look at her.
In the days that followed, I replayed Michael’s behavior in my mind. The late nights, the dinners with “colleagues”—it all made sense now. I tried calling him several times, but it always went to voicemail. Until one day, he answered by accident, his voice thick with sleep.
“Michael?” I asked.
“Elena?” he gasped, surprised.
“Is it true?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“Yes,” he admitted. “It’s all true. I’m not coming back. I loved the idea of starting a life with you and our baby, but I’ve grown to love Gretchen and the life we have together. I have to give this a chance. I’ll transfer the house to your name. Gretchen’s lawyers will handle it.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
Michael never contacted me again, and I didn’t reach out either. He disappeared from my life as quickly as he had entered it. At least my daughter would never have to meet him or experience the pain he caused.
She was safe from Michael, and for that, I was grateful.
What would you have done?
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you:
“My MIL Thought I Was Cheating on Her Daughter and Tried to Teach Me a Harsh Lesson. When Mike planned a surprise weekend getaway for his anniversary, a misunderstanding with his mother-in-law led to unexpected chaos…”