I just nodded and said, “Okay.”
By 10:58, Liam was finally asleep. I laid him gently in his cot, praying he’d stay down, then tiptoed to the small office to begin my lesson. I hadn’t even finished saying hello when I heard it—Liam’s soft cries through the wall.
I froze. I tried to keep teaching, plastering on a smile. Please, Kevin, just once… pick him up.
But ten minutes in, Liam was wailing. I excused myself and rushed out. Kevin was pacing, holding Liam like he was a ticking bomb.
“He won’t settle,” Kevin snapped. “And I told you—I was supposed to be in bed.”
Without a word, I took Liam back, my chest tight with silent tears. I rocked and nursed him again, finishing my lesson with red eyes and a heavy heart.
The next morning, I hoped for a reset. Kevin walked out of the bathroom, dressed for work. I reached for our usual goodbye hug.
He stepped back. “Are you still upset?” I asked softly. “Yes,” he said flatly.
“You crossed my boundary. Eleven o’clock is my bedtime. You need to schedule work around that.”
I stared at him.
“He’s our baby,” I whispered. “You begged for him.”
“You should’ve thought about that before accepting late lessons,” he replied coldly. Then we both heard footsteps.
Donna stepped into the room, still in her robe. Her face was unreadable, but her voice was clear. “Kevin,” she said.
“Can I say something before you leave?”
He hesitated, then nodded. She looked straight at him. “I heard everything just now.
What you said to Viki—‘That’s your problem’—it broke my heart.”
Kevin frowned. “I don’t understand…”
Donna walked farther in, her voice trembling slightly. “Because I’ve been in her shoes.
When you were a baby, your father said the exact same things to me. ‘It’s your job. You figure it out.’ He never changed a diaper.
Never got up when you cried. He didn’t even ask how I was doing.”
She paused, her eyes wet. “One night, I asked him to stay up just thirty minutes longer while I bathed you.
He said, ‘You wanted this baby, not me.’ That night, I knew I’d married the wrong man.”
Kevin looked stunned. “I eventually left,” Donna continued. “I raised you the best I could, Kevin.
I tried to show you love. But I see now… maybe I didn’t show you what a real partnership looks like.”
She turned to me, her eyes soft. “Don’t make her feel like I did.
Alone. Invisible. Like she’s begging for scraps of love and help.”
Then she looked back at Kevin.
“You begged for this family. And now that you have it, don’t make her regret trusting you. Be the man I know you can be—not the one I had to walk away from.”
Kevin stood frozen.
Finally, he whispered, “I… I’m sorry.”
He looked at me, his eyes full of something I hadn’t seen in weeks—remorse. “Viki, I’m so sorry.”
Donna stepped forward and hugged him. She whispered something to him—too soft for me to hear.
But whatever it was, he nodded slowly, eyes closed. Kevin didn’t go to work that day. He called in and simply said, “I need to take care of something at home.”
By noon, I found him in the kitchen, quietly cleaning up dishes.
Liam had just fallen asleep. He looked at me and said, “I know I’ve been awful. I don’t even know when I became like this.
I thought I was doing enough, but really… I wasn’t even trying.”
I leaned on the counter, arms folded. “I want to do better,” he said, stepping toward me. “Please help me figure out how.”
That night, he bathed Liam while I took the longest, most peaceful shower I’d had in months.
No rushing. No listening for cries. When I came out, Kevin was folding baby clothes and asked, “Need help with anything else?”
I blinked.
It felt unreal. But over the next few days, Kevin kept showing up. He started asking questions like, “How long should I warm the milk?” or “Does he usually nap around now?”
He stopped groaning when Liam cried at 2 a.m.
He just got up. One night, I found him swaying in the hallway, Liam on his chest. “He fell back asleep,” Kevin whispered.
“But he’s so warm… like a little toaster.”
I smiled. I didn’t say anything—but inside, something softened. Donna still helped when we needed it.
But the crushing weight I’d been carrying finally felt lighter. One evening, Kevin and I sat on the balcony after putting Liam to sleep. The stars were out, and the sky was deep blue.
“You know,” he said, “I think I was scared. Like if I admitted it was hard, it meant I wasn’t strong enough.”
“It’s not weakness,” I said. “It’s honesty.”
He nodded.
“I used to think being a dad just meant providing. But now I know… it means being there. With you.
With him. Even when I’m tired. Even when it’s messy.”
I reached for his hand.
For the first time in a long time, it felt natural. Things still weren’t perfect. There were tough days.
We still argued sometimes. But now, Kevin noticed. He cared.
And most of all—I didn’t feel like I was parenting alone anymore. Kevin begged for this family. And now, finally, he was learning how to honor it.
