When my husband returned from his weeklong trip, he expected to stroll through our front door as if nothing had happened. But instead, he was stopped cold by a figure blocking his way—a bright yellow suitcase at her side and a face full of anger. The shock on his face was worth every tear I had cried that long week.
Looking back, I should’ve seen the warning signs about Ethan long before we married. He was always the type to put his friends first, to make excuses whenever life got difficult. During our dating days, I brushed it off, thinking he was just young, carefree, and still figuring life out. I told myself that marriage would change him, that responsibility would make him mature.
For a short while, after we got engaged, Ethan seemed different. He spoke of our future with excitement, making all the right promises about being a loving husband.
“We’re going to be such a strong team, Lily,” he would say, holding my hands, looking into my eyes with that confident smile. “I can’t wait to build a life with you.”
I wanted to believe him with all my heart, and I did.
When I got pregnant eight months later, Ethan seemed thrilled. Weekends were spent painting the nursery a soft, soothing blue and carefully assembling the crib. I thought fatherhood would finally bring out the responsible, caring man I had hoped for.
“This baby’s going to have the best dad in the world,” he whispered to my belly at night. He read parenting books, asked questions, and imagined all the things he would teach our child. Those months felt full of hope and excitement.
But reality hit hard. At 37 weeks, my pregnancy turned complicated. A natural birth became an emergency C-section, leaving me weak, sore, and reliant on help for even the simplest tasks.
“Don’t worry, love,” Ethan said, leaning over me in the hospital bed, eyes soft. “I’ll take care of you and Ava at home. Focus on recovering, okay?”
Those first days home were a blur of sleepless nights, painful recovery, and learning to breastfeed. Ethan helped a little, but only if prompted. He would change diapers if asked, hold Ava when she was calm—but the moment she cried, she was back in my arms.
“I think she wants her mom,” he said repeatedly, whenever a challenge arose.
By week four, I was running on empty. My incision still hurt, and moving across the apartment was painful. Then Ethan dropped a bombshell.
“So, Ben got that promotion he’s been chasing,” he said one morning, eyes glued to his phone. “The guys are celebrating with a week at the beach. Sounds amazing.”
I stared at him, waiting for a punchline. None came. My chest tightened. “That’s great for Ben,” I said cautiously. “When are they going?”
“Next week. Perfect timing—Ben’s splurging on a fancy resort. It’ll be fun!”
“Ethan,” I said slowly, forcing calm. “You’re not seriously thinking of going, are you?”
“Why not?” he asked, defensive. “It’s just a week. Ben’s my best friend. It’s a big deal.”
I felt trapped in a nightmare. “Because I had major surgery four weeks ago? I can barely walk. We have a newborn who needs both parents.”
He sighed, brushing off my concerns. “You’re handling Ava fine. My mom said she’d help. It’s only seven days.”
“Your mom’s an hour away. I shouldn’t need help. My husband should be here,” I shot back, voice rising. “I can’t lift anything heavier than Ava. I can’t drive. How is this even a question?”
“I’ve been stressed too,” he said, pacing. “This whole dad thing is a lot. A break could help us all.”
A break? From his wife recovering from major surgery and our newborn? “Fine,” I said coldly. “Go. Have your vacation.”
His face brightened, as if I had just handed him a gift. “Really? You’re okay with it?”
I wasn’t. Not even close. But arguing further would only make me the villain. He kissed my forehead. “You’re the best, Lily. I’ll make it up to you.”
The next morning, I watched his Uber drive away, leaving me alone with our crying daughter.
That week was the longest of my life. Each day, I hoped it was a nightmare, but Ava’s cries brought me back to reality. She nursed constantly, her tiny hands clutching at me, while I sat for hours, too sore to move. Ethan’s texts were sparse and cheerful: photos of him and Ben at the beach, fancy dinners, laughter. I stared at them, covered in spit-up, wondering how someone could be so detached.
By day six, Ava had a slight fever. I called the pediatrician, panicked. The nurse guided me, but the isolation weighed heavily. I called Ethan three times that night. No answer.
Finally, his return day arrived. I tried to look presentable despite no sleep. At 3 p.m., a car pulled up. Ethan stepped out, tanned and relaxed, a stark contrast to the exhausted mother who had held down the fort alone.
Then I saw another car—Gloria’s. She stood on the porch, yellow suitcase at her side, a fierce determination on her face.
Ethan approached, his confident smile faltering. “Mom? What are you doing here?”
“You’re not coming in until we talk, Ethan,” she said, arms crossed.
He glanced around. “Mom, not here…”
“Oh, I’m doing this right here,” she snapped. “You left your wife, fresh from surgery, alone with a newborn for a week to party. Do you know how risky that was?”
I stood behind her, tears welling, feeling a protection I hadn’t felt in years.
“It wasn’t risky,” Ethan muttered weakly. “Lily’s fine. Ava’s fine.”
“Fine?” Gloria’s voice boomed. “Lily called me twice, overwhelmed and scared. She handled a fever alone because you were too busy with cocktails!”
Ethan flushed. “I was on vacation! I deserved a break!”
“You deserved a break?” Gloria stepped closer, and Ethan stumbled back. “Your wife deserved a partner. Your daughter deserved a father. You abandoned them when they needed you most.”
I found my voice, shaky but firm. “Gloria’s right, Ethan. You left me barely coping with a newborn.”
He turned to me, pleading. “Lily, don’t gang up with Mom. It was just a week.”
“A week that felt like forever,” I said. “A week where I questioned our marriage. A week where I saw you run when things get tough.”
Gloria pointed to her suitcase. “I packed for two weeks. If you’re not ready to be a husband and father, I’ll stay and help Lily. You don’t get to stroll back like nothing happened.”
Ethan’s usual charm failed him. “This is ridiculous,” he mumbled.
“What’s ridiculous is thinking a vacation matters more than your family,” Gloria shot back. “I raised you better. Your father would be ashamed.”
The mention of his dad struck him hard. He stood silent, then walked to the street.
“Where are you going?” I called.
“To Ben’s. I’m not welcome here anymore,” he said without looking back.
As his Uber drove off, Gloria turned to me, eyes misty. “I’m so sorry, Lily. I didn’t raise him to abandon his family.”
I broke down, sobbing harder than I had all week. She took Ava gently, hugging me tightly. “You’re not alone anymore,” she whispered. “Never again.”