“Daniel collapsed at work about an hour ago. We called an ambulance, and he’s stable now—but before he passed out, he kept repeating your name and your address.”
My knees weakened.
“What happened to him?”
Mark let out a slow breath.
“He’s been working double shifts for weeks,” he said. “Sometimes sixteen hours a day.”
“What?” I whispered.
“He took every extra shift he could. Said he needed the money before the baby arrived.”
I leaned against the wall, my thoughts spinning.
“But… he left. He said he needed space.”
There was another pause.
For illustrative purposes only
Then Mark said something that made my chest ache.
“He didn’t want you to know.”
“Know what?”
“That he was scared,” Mark said quietly.
A tear slipped down my cheek.
“He kept telling everyone the same thing. That he was afraid he wouldn’t be a good father… that he wouldn’t earn enough… that he’d fail you and the baby.”
My heart broke.
“He thought if he worked harder—saved more—you’d both be okay.”
Another contraction tore through me, and I cried out.
“Are you okay?” Mark asked urgently.
“I—I’m in labor,” I gasped.
“What?”
“I think the baby’s coming.”
I heard movement on the other end.
“I’m coming inside right now,” he said. “Don’t move.”
A minute later, the front door burst open.
Mark rushed in, his face filled with concern.
“Ambulance is already on the way,” he said. “Daniel told me where the spare key was.”
I nodded weakly, holding my belly.
“Is he… is he okay?”
“He’s awake now,” Mark said softly. “And the first thing he asked was if you were safe.”
My chest tightened.
For the first time in weeks, I felt something other than fear.
Hope.
Because suddenly I understood something Daniel had never known how to say out loud.
He hadn’t left because he stopped loving us.
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