My husband abandoned our baby and me at the airport, claiming he needed a “stress-free” vacation on his own. I stood in the middle of the crowded terminal, exhausted, holding our screaming daughter, Ava. Her tiny fists pushed against my chest as she wailed so loudly that strangers turned their heads. My arms ached from the weight of carrying her, and the pounding behind my eyes warned that a migraine was coming. I rocked her gently, whispering soothing words, trying to hide my panic. “It’s okay, baby girl. Daddy will be back soon,” I lied softly, though inside I doubted it. I wondered where Daniel was, how he could leave us in such chaos, and what kind of father would choose comfort over responsibility. My heart broke as I realized I was completely alone. Still, I held Ava tighter, determined to stay strong. What awaited him on that so-called relaxing trip—and later, when he returned—would not be peace but consequences. He might have run from us, but he could not escape what his actions meant for our family.
