A Year After She Left Me with Our Newborn, My Wife Came Back Like Nothing Happened

My Wife Left Me with Our Newborn, Only to Return a Year Later as If Nothing Had Happened — Story of the Day

With only a small note and no prior notice, my wife abandoned me with our baby. Our child was reared by me alone. She returned a year later, like nothing had happened.

Having a family was always my goal. A true family, one full of morning cuddles, goofy inside jokes, and customs we would establish together, not simply a name on a marriage certificate or a formality.

I knew Anna was the one when we first met. I was never afraid of her since she was a little enigmatic and occasionally aloof. I was drawn in, if anything.

When she listened, she had a habit of tilting her head, as though she was learning every word by heart. And for a moment, it seemed as though everything stopped when she laughed.

Then, however, something occurred.

It seemed subtle at first. She began to distance herself in ways I couldn’t quite identify. At supper, a little less talking. Work-related late nights that continued until the morning.

“You okay?” When she arrived home one evening, pulling off her shoes with a weary groan, I questioned. “You seem… distracted.”

“Danny, I’m all right. Simply exhausted.

Weary. Back then, that was her favorite term. I refrained from pressing.

Then one evening she was sitting on our bed’s edge with a little plastic stick in her hands. Before she moved it toward me, I noticed a slight shudder in her fingers.

Two lines of pink.

“Anna…” With my intellect just beginning to catch up, I muttered. “You’re pregnant?”

She gave a nod. I laughed foolishly as I spun her around after scooping her up.

“We’re having a baby!”

I saw her smile for the first time in months. And I thought we were all right then.

The ensuing months seemed like a fresh start. We argued over nursery colors and names as we talked late into the night. Still, something wasn’t quite right.

I thought I was the luckiest man alive when Sophie was born. I whispered, “I will love you forever, kiddo,” while holding her small hands and kissing her forehead. I swear.

However, Anna was both present and absent at the same time. It felt as though she was holding a stranger as she held Sophie.

My mother told me, “She just needs time,” when I contacted her. “Some women take longer to bond.”

Just for illustration’s sake | Source: Pexels

It was dubbed postpartum depression by the doctors.

“Have patience. She requires affection and encouragement.

I therefore adored her. I was on her side. I did it all. When Sophie started crying in the middle of the night, I let Anna sleep and reassured myself that things will improve in due time.

However, they didn’t.

I hoped that one night, when I was tired and bleary-eyed, I would carry Sophie to Anna.

“Anna. She only needs you for a little moment.

Quiet. There was no one in the bed. Sophie was moved against my chest.

“Anna?”

Then I noticed it. There was only one sheet of paper on the bedside table.

“I apologize. I’m not capable of doing this.”

That was it. No justification. No farewell. Anna had left.

And all she had left me was a newborn baby, a few of her possessions, and an irreparably broken heart.

It was terrible during the first several months without Anna.

Not the kind of hell with devils and fire that you read about in books. No, this was a chronic, slow-burning fatigue that sank into my bones.

I was not afforded the luxury of disintegrating. Sophie was the center of my universe.

Nights merged with mornings. I gained knowledge about creating formulas, double-checking every scoop, and measuring everything to the gram like a chemist. I was an expert at changing diapers, using cream sparingly to avoid rashes.

“Look, youngster? I’ve got this.

Like a worried mother, I took her to the pediatrician more times than necessary, keeping an eye on every little breath.

“She sneezed twice in a row,” I once informed the physician. “Is that normal?”

The physician hardly glanced at me. “Yes. Sneezing is commonplace.

Correct. Typical. My life no longer seemed normal.

Sophie wouldn’t go to sleep at night until I held her. I would rock her gently while pacing the room and softly whispering absurd things.

I forced myself to work on zero sleep by getting up at three in the morning to nurse her and then sitting at my laptop at seven. I was running on fumes, but it didn’t matter to the world. There were still bills to pay.

In the beginning, my mother assisted. She arrived carrying grocery bags.

“Danny, you’re taking on too much. One evening, as Sophie rambled in her bouncer, she stirred a pot of soup and whispered, “You need to sleep.”

“I’ll sleep when she sleeps,” I rubbed my face and mumbled.

“All parents say that before they lose it. Let me spend the night with her. Only once.

“I can’t.”

Sitting opposite me, she sighed. “Danny, you loved her. Will you forgive Anna if she returns?”

“She’s not coming back, Mom.”

“She might.”

“No. Change of heart is not Anna’s style. If she did decide, it was that. even though I’m not sure why.”

Later that night, I muttered my new reality to myself as Sophie eventually fell asleep on my chest.

“I’m not entitled to wait for Anna. My daughter is the reason I must live.

I was unaware that the hardest phase was still to come.

A year went by. The routine of life had become nearly normal.

Sophie took her first steps, running after her toy rabbit as quickly as her tiny legs would allow.

She would raise her arms and yell, “Dada!” whenever she saw me, as if I were the most amazing person in the world. And perhaps I was to her.

I had regained my ability to live. My days had evolved beyond just survival. I perfected her first ponytails, though they were always a bit off, and I learned how to do laundry without making everything pink.

In fact, I resumed seeing my friends. Not as much as previously, but enough to remind me that I was more than just Sophie’s father.

Then Sophie woke up one morning feeling warm to the touch. She leaned her head against my chest and hardly touched her food.

“Hey, child, what’s the matter?”

After examining her, the pediatrician reassured me that it was only a virus that would go away in a few days.

Let’s do a fast blood test, though. merely for safety.

I gave a nod. Sophie whimpered as they poked her little finger, and I cradled her.

“You’re quite courageous, child. The toughest young lady I’ve ever met.

I went to pick up the findings the following day. The doctor’s brows were slightly wrinkled as she flipped through the documents.

“What is your wife’s and your blood type?”

“The reason for my inquiry is that I looked through the documents. Sophie is a Type A personality.

“What is meant by that?”

After a moment of hesitation, she spoke it as softly as she could.

“That implies that the two of you couldn’t have given birth to her.”

My ears started to ring strangely.

Not mine? Not my daughter?

I hardly recalled returning home.

My heart felt like it may burst as I sat next to Sophie’s crib that night, watching her little chest rise and fall.

Is there a mistake here? A mistake?

My thoughts whirled across the previous year, including every laugh, every restless night, and every moment when she clung to me as if I were everything. She was my daughter. She must be.

I was furious that night—with myself, at Anna, and at the horrible turn of events that had destroyed everything I believed to be true. I felt completely alone, betrayed, and lost.

Nevertheless, I was unaware that Anna would soon return to my life and bring with her the answers I wasn’t sure I was prepared to hear.

Sophie’s first birthday came a few days following the hospital stay. I wanted to honor the tiny kid who had become my entire universe and put everything else aside.

Presents, cake, and balloons all needed to be flawless. Sophie clapped her hands in delight while my parents laughed.

Then I caught sight of Anna. She appeared unsure of her right to be there as she stood at the edge of the yard.

She said, “I came to see my daughter,” as though the previous year had never occurred.

The harsh response on my tongue was swallowed. Rather, I brought Anna inside, directly to the kitchen, leaving Sophie with my mother.

“I apologize,” she muttered. “I am aware that I vanished. I was weak.

I tightened my jaw. “Why did you leave?”

She let her eyes wander, following unseen patterns on the wooden table.

“Begin at the beginning.” Stop telling half-truths.

She took a deep breath. “I had an affair.”

I was aware. However, the sound of it coming from her mouth still made my chest twist like a knife.

“When?”

“I was pregnant for a few months before I discovered it. It wasn’t serious, or at least that’s not how I saw it. An error. And I ended it when I found out I was pregnant. Danny, I decided on our family.

“You chose us?” I let out an irritated laugh. “Because I seem to remember you choosing to run.”

She winced. “I believed I was acting appropriately. Our marriage was already over, and I didn’t want to ruin it over something else.”

“And yet, here we are.”

After hesitating, she spoke in a hushed tone. “He didn’t let go.”

I tensed up. “What do you mean?”

“Initially, there were only messages. Then it makes a call. Outside my workplace, he waited. He always found a way back, even after I blocked him and changed my number. I was afraid he would tell you first.”

I then posed the query that had been bothering me ever since the doctor’s visit.

“Did you know Sophie wasn’t mine?”

“What are you talking about?”

“The blood test. It’s not the same as mine. or yours.

She went pallid. “That’s… impossible.”

“Is it?”

“I had a suspicion. However, I was unsure. I was too afraid to ask. I therefore fled before I had to deal with it.

I gave a halting laugh. “You left us because you were afraid, then? Do you believe I wasn’t?

I spoke up, my temper exploding.

“You don’t believe it was terrifying to raise an infant by yourself? Wondering whether she would have your eyes and smile every day, only to realize that she might not be mine?”

Her cheeks were wet with tears. “I’ll look after her. I still consider her my daughter.

“No. No DNA test will be performed. No fight over custody. My daughter is named Sophie. And you can’t take her away from me.”

Anna said, “I don’t want to take her from you.” “I just want to be her mother again.”

“Then prove you deserve that chance.”

Just like Anna had left me, I left her alone in the kitchen.

Time went by. Although we shared a residence, we had changed as individuals.

Anna made an effort. She did. She learned to braid her hair, committed her favorite bedtime stories to memory, and stayed up with her when she was ill.

She then gradually put everything she had destroyed back together piece by piece.

Regarding myself… I wasn’t prepared to give her back my affections.

However, there were moments when I questioned if we would ever be able to reconcile after seeing her with Sophie and the way she treated our daughter as like she were the greatest thing in the world.

Not for the past. Not because of the errors. For the family we’d always desired, however.

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