When my husband left me during my maternity leave, I told myself I’d survive the heartbreak quietly. I just never imagined I would be standing at his wedding months later, watching everything unravel.
I’m 31 and used to think I was happy.
Back then, I believed my husband, Tyler, and I were solid.
We’d been married for four years when we finally welcomed our twin girls.
Then we were overwhelmed by sleepless nights, baby bottles, and tiny socks everywhere. I thought the chaos meant we were building something strong.
I remember standing in the nursery at 2 a.m., one baby crying in the bassinet while the other hiccupped against my shoulder, telling myself this was what love looked like.
I believed that having a messy, loud life was worth it.
But somewhere in those early months, while I was home on maternity leave with the babies, Tyler started pulling away.
It wasn’t dramatic at first — just subtle.
My husband stopped sitting beside me on the couch.
He also started answering texts with his body angled away from mine.
When I asked, “Who keeps messaging you this late?” he’d shrug and say, “Work stuff. Don’t start.”
Don’t start.
But I wasn’t trying to start anything. I was trying to hold everything together.
One night, while both babies were finally asleep, Tyler sat across from me and said calmly, “I want a divorce.”
There was baby formula drying on my shirt.
I remember that detail more than anything.
I actually laughed because the words didn’t register.
“Stop,” I said. “I’m too tired for jokes.”
My stomach dropped so fast I had to grip the edge of the couch.
He promised he’d be a good father, pay child support, and show up.
“I’ll still take care of them,” he said. “I’m not walking away from my kids.”
“I just don’t love you anymore,” he added.
The way he said it was almost gentle, as if he thought that made it kinder.
“You don’t love me,” I repeated.
“Or you don’t love the responsibility?”
He didn’t answer that.
“Is there someone else?” I asked.
Silence.
That silence should’ve told me everything.
No matter what I said, Tyler refused to change his mind.
When the divorce was finalized, I signed the papers with one hand while balancing Emma on my hip.
My lawyer avoided eye contact when he explained the child support calculations.
Two months later, Tyler and my cousin Gabriella, my father’s niece, announced their engagement.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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