When Elena is in hospital, ready to give birth to her and Michael’s first baby, she finds herself alone with her mother. Michael was simply nowhere to be found. Upon discharge, Elena walks into the house hoping to find Michael there with an explanation. Instead, she finds a note from Michael blaming Elena’s mother for his disappearance. Where is Michael and what happened?
I always thought that the happiest day of my life was the day I married Michael. But then we found out that I was pregnant, and I figured that the day I gave birth to our baby was going to be the happiest.
A woman holding a pregnancy test | Source: Midjourney
Little did I know that it would be the beginning of a nightmare. Michael had promised me that he would be there, holding my hand as we welcomed our first child into the world.
We had planned every detail together, from the music that would play in the delivery room to the tiny hat he would place on our baby’s head.
But when the time came, Michael just wasn’t there.
A pregnant woman sitting on a hospital chair | Source: Midjourney
I remember the nurses’ sympathetic smiles as they assured me that he was probably just delayed. With each passing minute, the sinking feeling in my stomach grew worse.
I had been calling him for hours, leaving desperate voicemails, but there was no response. As the contractions intensified, so did my fear. Was I really about to do this by myself? What could have kept him from being here?
A close up of a worried woman | Source: Midjourney
“Come on, Michael,” I said through gritted teeth.
When my daughter arrived, I was overwhelmed with joy, but it was tainted by the empty spot beside me where my husband should have been. Where was Michael? Why hadn’t he shown up?
My mother was with me throughout, holding my hand when Michael should have been, but I could see the worry in her eyes, too. And if she knew anything, she certainly didn’t tell me.
A smiling older woman | Source: Midjourney
“Just relax, Elena,” my mother said. “Focus on Emily now. And yourself; your body needs a moment.”
“I know,” I said. “I’m just worried.”
After two days in the hospital, I was finally discharged. My mother helped me carry Emily to the car, and we headed home. The ride was silent, and my mother kept drumming her fingers against the steering wheel.
A close up of a woman in a car | Source: Midjourney
I tried to keep myself calm, telling myself that there must be a reasonable explanation for Michael’s absence. Maybe something happened at work. Maybe he’d had an accident and was away in another hospital.
The scenarios grew wilder with each mile we drove.
But nothing could have prepared me for what I found when we got home.
The driveway leading to a house | Source: Midjourney
The house was eerily quiet. I pushed open the door, half-expecting Michael to be waiting inside with some excuse that I could forgive after seeing the look on his face.
“Michael?” I called out, my voice echoing through the empty rooms. “Michael, are you here?”
No answer.
A postpartum woman standing in a doorway | Source: Midjourney
“Be quiet, Elena,” my mother said. “Emily is sleeping.”
I ignored her and hurried upstairs. I had to check the nursery; maybe he was in there, just waiting for us to come home. We had spent weeks perfecting our daughter’s nursery to exactly how I envisioned it throughout my pregnancy.
But when I opened the door to the nursery, my breath caught in my throat.
A close up of a shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
The room was almost empty. The crib was there, but all the decorations, the stuffed animals, our daughter’s outfits, and the blankets we had lovingly chosen together were gone. All that remained was a single piece of paper, placed neatly inside the crib.
I love you and our baby, Elena. But I have to leave forever. Ask your mom why she did this. I’ve taken some of Emily’s things to remember you both.
A piece of paper in an empty crib | Source: Midjourney
I stared at the note, my mind struggling to make sense of the words. What did Michael mean? Why did he have to leave? And what did my mother have to do with any of this?
“Mom!” I shouted, trying to get down the stairs as fast as my postpartum body would allow. I clutched onto the note tightly as I thundered into the living room where she was sitting on the couch with Emily asleep in her arms.
An older woman holding a newborn | Source: Midjourney
“What is this?” I demanded, thrusting the note at her. “What did you do? Where is my husband?”
She looked at me with heavy eyes. And for a moment, I saw a flicker of something I couldn’t quite place. Guilt? Regret?
“I didn’t want you to find out this way…” she said quietly.
A close up of an older woman | Source: Midjourney
“What? Find out what?” I nearly screamed at her. “What are you talking about? Tell me now!”
She took a deep breath as if steeling herself for what she was about to say.
“I found out something about Michael, honey. And it was just too big to keep to myself. He needed to know that I knew.”
“Knew what? Why are you talking in riddles?” I asked closing my eyes, suddenly exhausted.
A close up of a woman with closed eyes | Source: Midjourney
“He’s been having an affair, darling,” she said. “With someone from his office. Imagine the nerve.”
The words hit me like a physical blow, and I had to sit down quickly.
“No, Mom,” I found myself saying. “That can’t be true at all. Michael wouldn’t do that to us. He loves me! And he’s been so excited about our baby and growing our little family!”
A close up of a shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
“I wish it wasn’t true, darling. Do you think I enjoyed being right?” she asked softly. “I overheard him talking to someone on the phone. They were talking about meeting at a motel. I confronted him about it, and he admitted it. He’s been seeing his boss, a woman who’s much wealthier than we could have ever dreamed. She’s been offering him things he couldn’t refuse.”
“You mean… the promotion? It wasn’t just hard work? And the car wasn’t just because he made a big deal for the company?” I gasped.
A smiling man sitting in his office | Source: Midjourney
My chest felt tight, like all the air had been sucked out of the room.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, tears streaming down my face as my lower pelvis ached. “Why didn’t you give me the chance to talk to him? A chance to fix it?”
“Oh, honey,” my mother said soothingly. “I gave him the chance. I told him that he had to tell you everything or leave, for good. I knew that if he told you everything, it would mean that he was still a good man with redeeming qualities. But see this? He chose to leave you, to leave Emily.”
A close up of an upset woman | Source: Midjourney
For a moment, I didn’t want to believe my mother. I wanted to believe Michael, and that there was more to this story. How else could my mother have sat there during my labor, holding my hand while knowing the truth?
It made no sense to me.
Well, one thing made sense to me. My mother had never really taken to Michael in the way I had hoped. She tolerated him and liked that he took care of me. But there was nothing beyond that. They had no other relationship beyond me.
What if my mother just wanted him out?
Unknowingly, I said all these thoughts out loud.
An upset woman holding her head | Source: Midjourney
“Really? Elena! You think I’d purposely hurt my daughter and jeopardize her relationship with her father?” my mother cried. “He hurt you by choosing to have an affair. I can tell you everything you need to know, but I need you to believe me.”
This couldn’t be happening. My husband, the man I had trusted with my life, had betrayed me, and my mother had forced him to leave without giving me the chance to even hear him out.
“You shouldn’t have taken that choice away from me,” I said. “You should have let me decide what to do!”
My mother gripped my thigh tightly.
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
“I’m so sorry, Elena,” she said. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t want you to suffer more than you already did; this pregnancy was a lot on your body and mind, my darling.”
She seemed earnest enough, but I couldn’t help but be angry with her. All I could think about was how everything I had known, everything I had believed in, had been ripped away in an instant.
My husband was gone, and probably off with his mistress, my mother had betrayed my trust, and I was left alone with a newborn and a broken heart.
A silhouette of a couple | Source: Midjourney
Emily’s eyes opened, and before I knew it, her little mouth twisted into a cry.
“She’s hungry,” my mother said. “Maybe one day, when Emily goes through something where she needs her mother to protect her more than give her a choice, you’ll understand why I did what I did.”
I nodded.
A crying baby girl | Source: Midjourney
“I’m sure you’re right, Mom,” I said, slipping my shirt off my arm to feed my little girl. “But I need some space for a little while. I need to adjust to being a single parent right now.”
“But you’re not alone, Elena!” my mother exclaimed. “Michael may have chosen to leave you, but I’m still here. I’m right there to love and support you. And your little girl.”
“I know that,” I said. “But this is the choice I’m making.”
“I’ll make you some food and then I’ll leave,” my mother said. “Please, let me do that. Let me plan meals for a week. Okay?”
A woman in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney
“Fine,” I said, grateful for the assistance even though I didn’t want to look at her.
In the days that followed our hospital return, I thought about Michael’s behavior closer. Of course he was having an affair. There were endless late nights and shared dinners with “colleagues over business.” It was clear now, that during those intimate hours, Michael and his boss were becoming closer.
I tried to contact Michael many times, but it always went to voicemail. Until one day, when he answered by accident. I could tell he had no intention of answering the phone because his voice was thick with sleep.
“Michael?” I asked.
“Elena?” he gasped.
“Is it true?” I asked.
A sleepy man talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“Yes. All of it,” he said. “I’m not coming back. I was excited to start my life with you and our baby, but I’ve grown to love Gretchen and our lives together. I have to give this a chance. And the least I can do is transfer the house to your name only. Gretchen’s lawyers will do it soon.”
I couldn’t believe my ears.
Michael never contacted me again, and I didn’t reach out either. He disappeared from my life as quickly as he had entered it. But at least my daughter didn’t meet him and get to experience any of that.
She was safely away from Michael.
A smiling woman holding her baby | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you:
My MIL Thought I Was Cheating on Her Daughter and Tried to Teach Me a Harsh Lesson
When Mike plans a surprise weekend away for his and Steph’s anniversary, he hires an event planner to do most of the work. But when a nosy mother-in-law catches wind of Mike with another woman, things get out of control…
So, let me set a scene for you. It’s hilarious now, but it was anything but when it actually happened.
A man laughing | Source: Midjourney
I’m Mike and I’ve been happily married to my wife, Steph, for ten years. We had a perfect little life with our eight-year-old son, Jack. Steph and I are the kind of couple that people envy.
As lame as it sounds, we have been completely in sync since we got married, finishing each other’s sentences, the whole deal.
Or at least, we were until my mother-in-law, Karen, got involved.
A happy couple | Source: Midjourney
“I’m going to surprise Mom for our anniversary,” I told Jack when we were kicking a ball around outside one afternoon.
“Just don’t decide on having another kid,” Jack said, giggling as he spoke.
Well, I didn’t plan on that, but I did want to surprise Steph with a romantic weekend getaway to celebrate our anniversary.
A father and son playing with a ball | Source: Midjourney
I wanted everything to be perfect, so I hired an event planner to hold down the fort.
“Catherine,” I told her when I sat across from her in her office. “I need this weekend to be perfect. I know that it’s small scale compared to the events you plan, but I need it to be perfect for Steph. She deserves this.”
Catherine beamed, and I thought she actually looked quite beautiful. Not as beautiful as my wife, but lovely nonetheless.
A smiling woman sitting at her desk | Source: Midjourney
She was great to work with too. She was professional, attentive, and yes, attractive.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
My Husband Leaves Piles of Dirty Dishes and Refuses to Wash Them – One Day, I Taught Him a Real Lesson
Danielle’s kitchen once overflowed with dishes, but a playful plot turned it into a place of partnership. Discover how her creative maneuver sparked clean counters and renewed camaraderie in her marriage.
My name is Danielle, and at 45, I’ve pretty much seen it all. As a nurse, I spend ten hours a day making life a little easier for everyone else, but back at home, it’s a whole different story.
Danielle | Source: Midjourney
You see, my husband, Mark, works from home. He earns a good chunk more than I do, which somehow translates to him dubbing himself the “real breadwinner.” That’s his excuse for leaving every single household chore to me.
Our kitchen tells the tale of neglect every evening. “Welcome to Mount Dishmore,” I mutter as I walk in the door and the sight of piled-up dishes greets me. It’s like they’re competing for a mountain climbing record.
A pile of dirty dishes in the sink | Source: Pexels
Mark, lounging on the sofa, throws a casual, “Tough day?” my way without moving an inch.
“Yep, and it just got tougher,” I respond, eyeing the chaos in the sink. Something inside me snaps. Enough is enough.
Every morning, I leave a note on the fridge that reads, “Please wash any dishes you use today. Thanks!” But it might as well be invisible. By the evening, the kitchen sink is a disaster zone. Cups and plates tower precariously, a testament to Mark’s culinary adventures throughout the day.
The note | Source: Midjourney
One evening, as I balanced a frying pan on top of a wobbly stack of bowls, I asked Mark if he could help me with the dishes. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something here?” he said, his eyes glued to his laptop screen. That something was obviously very important. So important it couldn’t be paused for a few minutes to help clear the debris he’d contributed to all day.
I tried different tactics. More notes. More pleas. “Babe, it’s really hard for me to come home after a long shift and face this,” I told him one night, hoping for a sliver of empathy.
“It’s just a few dishes, Dani. You’ll get through them in no time,” he replied without looking up from his screen. His nonchalance stung.
Danielle comes to hide the mug in her closet | Source: Midjourney
The breaking point came on a particularly tough Thursday. After a grueling double shift, I came home to find the sink more crowded than a bargain bin on Black Friday. That was it. I was done being the sole dish fairy.
The next morning, I didn’t leave a note. Instead, I washed every dish—except one. Mark’s favorite mug, the one with the quirky superhero he’s loved since his teens. I cleaned it, dried it, and hid it in the back of our bedroom closet.
That evening, Mark rummaged through the cupboards with a frown. “Have you seen my mug?” he asked, sounding puzzled.
Mark tries to find his mug | Source: Midjourney
“Nope,” I said, keeping my voice light. “Maybe it’s lost in the great Mount Dishmore.”
He chuckled and grabbed another cup, but I saw the gears turning in his head. Each day that followed, a few more items mysteriously disappeared: a fork here, a spoon there, and his plate with the comic hero. I was waging a silent protest, and for the first time, I had his attention.
As the days passed, Mark’s favorite items began to vanish one by one. His favorite comic hero plate—gone. The steak knives we got for our anniversary—vanished. Each disappearance was meticulously planned. I continued my silent strike, my secret little rebellion against the kingdom of unwashed dishes that Mark had built.
Empty cupboard | Source: Midjourney
One morning, as Mark reached for a bowl to make his cereal, he paused, scanning the almost empty cupboard. “Dani, have we been robbed? Where’s all our stuff?”
I sipped my coffee, feigning confusion. “Hmm, I guess things are walking away since they’re not getting cleaned.”
Mark’s frustration bubbled as he used a measuring cup for his cereal. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered.
Cereal in a measuring cup | Source: Midjourney
I just shrugged, a mischievous twinkle in my eye. The kitchen had transformed into a culinary Bermuda Triangle, and Mark was finally noticing the chaos.
By Saturday, the climax of my plan unfolded. I announced a spa day for myself, leaving Mark home alone. “Enjoy your day!” I called cheerfully, knowing well the scene I’d return to.
I came back, relaxed and rejuvenated, to find Mark in the middle of the kitchen, staring bewildered at the barren counters and the near-empty sink. “Where are all the dishes?” he asked, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice.
Mark tries to find the remaining dishes | Source: Midjourney
“They decided to wash themselves,” I quipped, hanging my coat.
That’s when it happened. Mark sighed, a deep, resigning sigh. He filled the sink with water, squirted some soap, and started scrubbing the few pieces left. I lounged in the living room, the clinks and clatters from the kitchen music to my ears. Mark was finally partaking in the symphony of chores.
Watching him tackle the task, I felt a wave of satisfaction mixed with relief. It wasn’t just about the dishes; it was about sharing our lives, all parts of it. I appreciated his effort, seeing it as a sign of his love, as much as a recognition of my daily toil.
Mark washes the rest of the dishes | Source: Midjourney
The next morning, I ‘discovered’ all the missing items. “Oh look, they’ve come back from their adventure,” I exclaimed, showing him the box of neatly arranged dishes and cutlery.
Mark looked at me, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “I guess I didn’t realize how much it was really,” he admitted. “It’s a lot to deal with alone, isn’t it?”
“It sure is,” I agreed, happy to hear those words.
From that day on, Mark made a genuine effort. He’d wash his coffee mug right after finishing his morning brew. Sometimes, I’d find him battling Mount Dishmore without any prompt. The sight was as refreshing as my spa day had been.
Danielle enjoys her SPA day | Source: Midjourney
The sippy cup, a relic from my campaign, now sat prominently on a shelf, a light-hearted trophy from our domestic battleground, reminding us both of the lessons learned and the peace restored.
Nowadays, our evenings are quite the idyllic scene, a stark contrast to the chaotic nights of the past. Mark and I share the kitchen duties seamlessly, humming along to old ’80s hits while we cook and clean together. He washes the dishes as I dry them, each plate and cup sparking small conversations about our day.
Mark and Danielle | Source: Midjourney
The kitchen, once a battleground of unwashed dishes and unspoken frustrations, has transformed into a place of laughter and collaboration. Mark often jokes about the “Great Dish Disappearance.” We chuckle at the memory, appreciating how far we’ve come.
I Am 8 Months Pregnant and My Husband’s Night Eating Is Constantly Leaving Me Hungry
Hey everyone, just here sharing a bit of my life as I’m 8 months pregnant and super excited about our little one coming soon. But, I’ve got this kind of weird situation at home making things tougher than expected. My biggest challenge isn’t the usual pregnancy stuff, but my husband, Mark, and his relentless nighttime eating.
A man eating against a dark backdrop
Every night, after midnight, Mark goes on his kitchen raids. It wouldn’t be such a big deal if it didn’t hit me so hard. He literally eats everything—meals I prepped for the next day, my lunch leftovers, you name it. When you’re 8 months pregnant and wake up to find no food, then have to either cook again or run to the store, it’s just exhausting.
An upset pregnant woman holding her belly | Source: Shutterstock
We’ve talked about this so many times, but he just laughs it off and suggests I should simply make more or stash away some special snacks for myself. It feels like he’s not taking any of this seriously, just treating it as a quirky thing he does.
An upset woman with her head in her hands as her husband looks on | Source: Shutterstock
So, last Thursday night really showed me how bad it’s gotten. I spent the afternoon cooking up a big batch of my favorite chili, thinking it would last a few days and was even considerate enough to make extra for Mark.
A ramekin filled with chili | Source: Pexels
But come 1 AM, there I am, woken up by pots banging. I find Mark in the kitchen, helping himself to nearly all the chili. “Babe, I was just so hungry, and it smelled so good,” he tried to explain, clueless about the effort I put into making it last. “I made that chili so we could have meals ready for the week. We can’t keep doing this. I’m totally out of energy, and it’s really not fair,” I told him.
A crying pregnant woman | Source: Shutterstock
His solution? “Why don’t we just make more tomorrow?” I was too tired to argue and just went back to bed, but I knew something had to change. I couldn’t keep up like this, not this far into my pregnancy.
A man arguing with his pregnant wife | Source: Shutterstock
Things just kept going the same way. Mornings where I’d find my meals and snacks gone were becoming the norm. It was draining, and after one morning of finding out he’d eaten the lasagna I’d planned for lunch, I hit my breaking point.
A slice of lasagna garnished with basil | Source: Pexels
Sitting on the kitchen floor, surrounded by grocery bags because I was too worn out to put them away, I called my sister. I was in tears, telling her how Mark’s eating habits were leaving me hungry and messing up my sleep every night.
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