Oh, this ones a tough one, love. So, you know how some blokes beg for a baby and then vanish the second things get real? Yeah, thats what happened to Emily. Shes still reeling from it, honestly. Her husband, Jamesthe same man who swore hed be the best dad, who pleaded with her to start a family, who promised the worldjust upped and left when their little boy was three months old. And whered he go? Straight back to his mums, of course. Meanwhile, Emily was left holding the babyliterallywith nothing but a sore back and a shattered heart.
They got married three years ago in London, and at first, it was all roses. Young, in love, full of dreams. But Emily knew one thing: kids werent something to rush into. They needed a bigger flat, some savings, time to settle. Shed grown up with younger brothers, so she knew the drillsleepless nights, nappies, colic. James, though? Only child. Spoiled rotten. Never faced a proper challenge in his life.
Then his cousin had a baby, and suddenly, James was obsessed. Every time they visited, hed start up again:
“Come on, Em. Nows the time! Why wait? Young parents cope better. If you keep getting ready, well be forty by the time it happens!”
She tried to explaina baby isnt a toy; its night feeds and tantrums and no sleepbut hed just shrug and say,
“Honestly, you make it sound like a nightmare, not a kid!”
Their mums didnt help, either. Both kept saying theyd pitch in, that itd be a breeze. So eventually, Emily caved.
During the pregnancy, James was perfect. Carried the shopping, cleaned, cooked, came to every scan, even whispered to her bump about how much he loved them. She really thought hed step up.
But the fairytale ended the second they brought little Oliver home. The cryingconstant, relentless, for no reason at all. Emily tried to let James sleep, but Oliver woke every two hours. Shed pace their tiny flat, rocking him, singing lullabies. But in their cramped place, there was no escaping it. The kitchen light stayed on all night, and shed watch James toss in bed, covering his ears, getting angrier.
Bit by bit, he snapped. The rows started. He came home later and later. Then one night, just after Oliver turned three months, James packed a bag without a word.
“Im staying at Mums. I need sleep. I cant do this. Not divorce, just Im knackered. Ill come back when hes older.”
Emily stood frozen in the hallway, Oliver in her arms, milk still warm in her chest. And James? He just walked out.
Next day, his mum rang. Casual as anything:
“Sweetheart, I dont agree with him, but its for the best. Men arent built for newborns. Ill pop round to help. Dont be too hard on him.”
Then her own mum called.
“Mum, tell me this is normal,” Emily whispered, voice cracking. “He wanted this. Now hes left me. How am I supposed to do this alone?”
“Darling, dont do anything rash. Yes, he ran off. But not to another womanto his mum. That means he hasnt given up entirely. Give him time. Hell come back.”
But Emilys not sure she wants him back.
He broke her. Betrayed her when she was at her weakest. When all she could think about was Oliver, about *them*he quit. Couldnt even last a few months. And now she wonders can she ever trust him again? Rely on him? *He* pushed for this. *He* begged. Then the second reality hit, he bolted.
Now its all on her. Oliver, the bills, the exhaustion, the fear. And one question that wont leave her alone: if he walked away when she needed him most whats next?
