My wife left me and our newborn baby.
Emily and I had been married for ten years. We worked together in a lab, so we spent most of our time side by side. When she told me she was pregnant, I was over the moon. I had dreamt of having a child so much I couldn’t even put my joy into words.
But my wife was a true career woman. She never fantasised about motherhood. Emily wanted a leadership role and financial success. When the pregnancy made her feel unwell, she had to step back from work—that’s when she realised a child would be the end of her career.
Our baby girl arrived right on time. The moment she was born, Emily was hit by postpartum depression. She outright hated the child. She wanted to leave her at the hospital and forget she ever existed. My wife screamed at the entire maternity ward that our daughter had cost her a whole year and set her back professionally.
As they say, it only got worse. When I got promoted, she flew into a rage. She refused to go near our daughter, wouldn’t even feed her. I had to hire a therapist because I knew this wouldn’t end well. The sedatives helped, but only briefly. Emily accused me of wasting her best years while climbing the ladder at her expense. She even said that promotion should’ve been hers, not mine.
When I was sent to France to open a new branch, I suggested we all go together. But Emily refused. She filed for divorce and walked out. I moved abroad with our daughter, and later my mum joined us to help look after the little one. Emily went back to her old job and still tries to prove she’s more deserving of my position.
Yes, she’s clever and driven, but family life isn’t for her. She’ll realise happiness isn’t in a career—but by then, it’ll be too late.
