I arrived at the hospital to bring my wife and our newborn twins home, but instead, I was met with a shocking sight: only the babies were there, accompanied by a note
I arrived at the hospital, ready to take my wife, Suzie, and our newborn twin daughters home. I had prepared everything for this day—decorated the nursery, cooked a family dinner, and even picked up balloons.
I was filled with joy, eager to see Suzie’s reaction to all my efforts.
She had endured so much during her pregnancy, from back pain to morning sickness, all while navigating the constant interference from my overbearing mother.
This day was supposed to be the beginning of our perfect family life. But when I arrived at the hospital, something was wrong. Suzie wasn’t in her room. Instead, I found our two daughters peacefully sleeping in their bassinets.
And there, beside them, was a note. I opened it, my hands shaking as I read: «Goodbye. Take care of them. Ask your mother WHY she did this to me.»
Confusion flooded me. What did this mean? Where was Suzie? Had I missed something? I’d been so sure everything was fine. I asked the nurse, my voice unsteady, “Where is my wife?”
“She checked out this morning,” the nurse replied. “She said you knew.” “Knew what?” I stammered, looking down at the note, hoping for answers. “Was she upset? Did she say anything?”
The nurse hesitated. “She seemed quiet… but fine. She said you knew.” I shook my head in disbelief. I had no idea what was going on.
My mind raced as I drove home, holding my daughters in my arms and trying to make sense of it all.
Suzie was gone. Without a word. I had nothing but the twins, the shattered plans, and the cryptic note. When I pulled into the driveway, my mom, Mandy, was waiting on the porch, her arms outstretched to greet the twins, a casserole dish in hand.
The smell of cheesy potatoes filled the air, but I couldn’t let it calm the turmoil inside me. “Oh, let me see my grandbabies!” she exclaimed, setting the dish aside and moving toward me.
I stepped back, holding the car seat closer. “Not yet, Mom.” She looked puzzled. “What’s wrong?” I shoved the note in her direction. “What did you do to Suzie?”
Her expression faltered as she took the note, her fingers trembling. She read the words, her face paling. “Ben, I don’t know what this is about,” she said quietly. “She’s… always been emotional. Maybe she—”
“Don’t lie to me!” My voice echoed in the stillness of the porch. “You’ve never liked her. You’ve always found ways to tear her down.” “I’ve only tried to help!” My mother’s voice cracked as tears filled her eyes.
I turned away, my stomach churning. I couldn’t trust her anymore. Whatever had happened between them had driven Suzie to leave, and now I was left to pick up the pieces of a broken family.
That night, after I put the twins to bed, I sat alone at the kitchen table, the note clutched tightly in my hand. My mother’s protests still rang in my ears, but I couldn’t push away the question that kept haunting me: What had she done to Suzie?
I thought back to all the family gatherings, the subtle jabs my mother had aimed at Suzie. At the time, Suzie had brushed them off, but now, I saw them for what they truly were—cutting remarks that had slowly torn her down.
Determined to understand, I started going through Suzie’s things. I found her jewelry box and set it aside, but something caught my eye—a slip of paper tucked beneath the lid.
It was a letter, written by my mother. The words burned as I read: “Suzie, you’ll never be good enough for my son. You’ve trapped him with this pregnancy, but don’t think you can fool me.
If you care about them, you’ll leave before you ruin their lives.” I felt sick to my stomach. This was why Suzie had left. My mother had been tearing her apart, and it had pushed Suzie to the edge.
I stormed into her room, waving the letter in front of her. “How could you? You’ve been bullying Suzie for years!”
My mother tried to defend herself, but I was beyond listening. “She’s the mother of my children. You need to leave. Now.” Days passed, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Suzie.
I contacted her friends, and one of her college friends, Sara, told me that Suzie had felt trapped, especially by my mother’s constant interference.
“She thought Mandy might turn you against her,” Sara explained. Then, one day, I received a text from an unknown number.
It was a photo of Suzie holding the twins in the hospital, with a message: “I wish I was the mother they deserve. I hope you forgive me.”
I tried to call, but the number didn’t go through. Months passed with no word from Suzie, and the twins’ first birthday came and went, bittersweet.
Then, one evening, there was a knock at the door. It was Suzie. She looked healthier, but the sadness still lingered in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
I pulled her into a tight embrace, and for the first time in a year, I felt complete. Suzie explained how postpartum depression, my mother’s cruelty, and her own feelings of inadequacy had overwhelmed her.
She had left to protect the twins and escape the spiral of self-loathing. Therapy had helped her rebuild. “I didn’t want to leave,” she said softly. “But I didn’t know how to stay.” “We’ll figure it out,” I promised, holding her hand. And together, we did.
