I Went to Pick Up My Wife and Newborn Twins from the Hospital — I Found Only the Babies and a Note

When I drove to the hospital to bring home my wife and newborn twins, balloons bouncing beside me, I was grinning ear to ear. I couldn’t wait to show Suzie the nursery, the dinner I’d prepared, and the photos waiting on the mantle. But when I pushed open her hospital room door, my daughters were sleeping soundly… and Suzie was gone.

At first, I thought she’d stepped out. Then I saw the note: “Goodbye. Take care of them. Ask your mother WHY she did this to me.” My world collapsed. The nurse told me Suzie had checked out that morning, saying I knew. But I hadn’t known anything. I left the hospital in shock, clutching the girls and that terrible message.

At home, my mom greeted me, beaming, but her smile faded when I shoved the note at her. She denied everything, but later, I found a hidden letter in her handwriting: “You’ll never be good enough for my son. If you care about them, leave.” Rage consumed me. I confronted her, and when she couldn’t deny it, I told her to pack her bags.

The weeks that followed were a blur of sleepless nights, bottles, and tears—sometimes the babies’, sometimes mine. I searched everywhere for Suzie, but she had vanished. Months later, I received a single photo of her holding the twins with the message: “I wish I was the type of mother they deserve. I hope you forgive me.” Then silence. But it gave me hope—she was alive.

A year later, on the twins’ birthday, there was a knock at the door. Suzie stood there, healthier but tearful. Through sobs, she confessed how postpartum depression and my mother’s cruelty had driven her away. Now, with help, she was ready to try again. I held her close and whispered, “We’ll figure it out. Together.” And we did.