“Then you absolutely cannot manage without help.”
When I told Michael what the doctor had said, he barely reacted.
“Oh, come on, Emily. You don’t expect me to quit my job over this, do you?”
“I’m not asking you to quit. I’m asking you to help me.”
He gave me a cold smile.
“You wanted all those babies. Now take care of them.”
That night, I barely slept.
I fed one baby, rocked another, and tried to calm the third.
My leg throbbed with pain while Michael slept peacefully in the next room.
The following morning, he got dressed, picked up his coat, and left for work without even looking at the babies.
At the door, he casually added:
“Make sure dinner is ready when I get home.”
That was the moment I realized I couldn’t continue living like this.
I picked up my phone and called a woman I hadn’t spoken to in almost two years.
