My heart raced as I unfolded the paper, the words spiraling into clarity, cutting deeper than any blade. “I don’t think I can be the husband or father you want me to be.” The sentence punched me in the gut.
Each line felt like a new wound, describing how he had been feeling trapped, how the thought of being a father loomed over him like a shadow. “I wish I could say I wanted this. I don’t,” it read with cold finality. “I’ve considered leaving. I hope you can understand.”
My vision blurred with tears. The weight of his words sank in, suffocating me. Ethan had never wanted this life. He had been planning his escape long before I even knew I was pregnant.
“You never wanted to be a father,” I whispered, my voice trembling. The realization shattered the last pieces of hope I had held onto.
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