After years of longing and heartbreak, I finally held my dream in my arms—three tiny, perfect daughters named Sophie, Lily, and Grace. Triplets. Miracles. I had waited, prayed, and hoped for this moment, and when it came, I was overwhelmed with joy. As they slept peacefully in their bassinets, my heart overflowed with love.
Then Jack walked in.
He stood near the hospital room entrance, pale and tense. His hands were clenched, his gaze distant. Something was wrong—deeply wrong. I motioned for him to come sit by me and see our girls. “Jack,” I said softly, “they’re here. We did it.”
He nodded faintly, still avoiding eye contact. “Yeah… they’re beautiful.” But his voice was flat. Cold. He moved closer but never really looked at them.
I reached for his hand. “Jack, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.”
He exhaled shakily, and when he spoke, his words shattered me. “Emily, I don’t think… I don’t think we can keep them.”
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I blinked, stunned. “What are you talking about, Jack? They’re our daughters.”
He looked away like he couldn’t stand the sight of me. “My mom went to a fortune teller,” he said quietly. “She said the girls would bring bad luck… that they’d ruin me. Maybe even kill me.”
I stared at him, speechless, trying to process the madness I’d just heard. “You can’t be serious. Jack, they’re babies. Ours. This is insane.”
His hands trembled as he added, “My mom really believes it. She trusts this woman. She’s been right about other things before.”
Anger, hot and sudden, burned through my shock. “So that’s it? You’re going to abandon your children because your mother’s psychic told you to?”
His face twisted with guilt and fear. “If you want to bring them home, fine. But I won’t be there.”
“You’re serious?” I asked, my voice breaking. “You’d walk away from your own daughters over a superstition?”
He didn’t answer. Just turned and whispered, “I’m sorry, Em,” before walking out of the room—and out of our lives.
I stood frozen, watching the doorway long after he’d gone. A nurse entered and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder as tears welled in my eyes. I looked at my daughters, so tiny and innocent, unaware of the abandonment they’d just endured. I leaned over them and whispered through my tears, “I’m here, girls. I will always be here.”
Bringing them home alone was terrifying. Jack disappeared completely. Every day was a challenge. Sleepless nights, endless feedings, diapers, exhaustion that turned hours into blurs—but I pushed through. For them. My daughters became my entire world.
One afternoon, Jack’s sister Beth came over to help. She’d been the only one in his family who stayed in touch. That day, I noticed something was bothering her.
“Emily,” she said hesitantly, “I heard something. I don’t know if I should tell you, but I can’t keep it in.”
My stomach dropped. “What is it?”