Ethan and I stood together in the nursery, surrounded by soft colors and plush animals.
The crib was freshly assembled, and I could already imagine our baby nestled inside, sleeping peacefully.
“I can’t believe we’re about to be parents,” I said with a smile. “I was picturing us both on leave, adjusting together, figuring things out side by side.”
Ethan gave a quick nod, but something was off. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah,” he said, “it’ll be great.”
I studied his face, concerned. “Did you talk to your boss about taking paternity leave?”
He exhaled, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah… I did. It didn’t go well.”
My heart sank. “What do you mean?”
“He said there’s a major project coming up. He needs me to travel to another city to lead it. And if I refuse… I could lose my job.”
I froze. “What? But we can’t afford that. Especially with the baby coming.”
“I know,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It sucks. But we don’t really have a choice. I need this job.”
I sat down on the edge of the bed, stunned.
This wasn’t how we’d envisioned things. We’d made plans to raise our baby as a team from the very beginning. Now it felt like everything was unraveling.
“We’ll figure it out,” I said quietly, forcing optimism. “Maybe we can make the most of the time we do have.”
He reached for my hand and squeezed it. “We always manage. It’ll be okay.”
I smiled, but something didn’t sit right. Deep down, I felt cheated out of a moment we were supposed to share.
Days later, I was at the grocery store when I heard someone call my name.
“Sarah? Wow, it’s been ages!”
I turned to see Amanda, Ethan’s boss’s wife. We’d gone to university together, and I hadn’t seen her in years.
“Hey, Amanda!” I replied, trying to sound cheerful.
“How are you? You must be so close now!” she said, nodding toward my bump.
“I am,” I said with a tight smile. “Just trying to stay calm. Though things have been stressful lately. Ethan’s paternity leave got denied.”
Amanda’s face twisted in confusion. “Denied? That can’t be right.”
I blinked. “He said your husband told him he needed to travel for work, and that refusing could cost him his job.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “That’s… strange. I’m pretty sure Ethan’s leave was approved. My husband even mentioned how glad he was that Ethan would be taking time off for the baby.”
I stood there, stunned. “You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.”
I rushed home, my heart racing. As soon as I walked through the door, I saw Ethan’s phone on the coffee table—he was in the shower.
I hesitated, but my gut told me something was wrong.
I opened his messages and started scrolling. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting—maybe something work-related—but what I found shattered me.
There it was. A conversation with his parents.
His mom: “Ethan, no need to stay home. Sarah’s mom can help with the baby. We really need you here to get the renovations done.”
His dad: “Exactly. You’re not far away, and this house needs to be finished before the end of the month.”
Ethan: “You’re right. I’ll take leave and come to stay for a while. Sarah can manage.”
I felt sick.
My hands trembled. He lied. Not just to me, but about something so deeply important—our child, our family.
He had planned to spend his paternity leave helping his parents with their home improvement, not supporting his wife and newborn.
I quickly took screenshots of the messages, needing to preserve the truth. Then I put the phone back where it was and tried to breathe.
I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. My thoughts spun with disbelief, betrayal, and heartbreak. We had built our relationship on trust—or so I thought.
We met five years ago at a friend’s party. Ethan had a way of making people feel at ease, and I was immediately drawn to him.
He was kind, thoughtful, and had a warm laugh I adored. We fell hard, sharing everything from hiking trails to dreams about starting a family.
When he proposed during a mountaintop picnic, I thought I had found someone who would always stand beside me.
Now, I wasn’t so sure.
The next evening, Ethan walked through the door, visibly shaken. “I got fired,” he announced to the empty room.
Of course, I wasn’t there. What he did find was an envelope on the kitchen table.
Inside was a handwritten note:
“Ethan,
I saw the messages. You lied to me about your leave. While I was preparing to raise a child with you, you were planning to escape to your parents’ house for renovations. You chose them over us.
That’s not something I can forgive.
I sent the screenshots to your boss. That’s why you lost your job.
I’ve gone to my parents’ place. I’ll be filing for divorce.
Sarah.”
That morning, I had packed my things and left quietly. My mother greeted me with open arms.
“You’re doing the right thing,” she said softly. “You need to think about you and the baby now.”
“I never thought he’d lie like that,” I whispered.
“You’re stronger than you know,” my dad said, squeezing my hand. “And you’re not alone.”
Sitting on the couch, wrapped in the comfort of home, I held my belly and made a quiet promise to my baby: we would be okay. We would build something better—something honest. Because we deserved nothing less.
