“After Our Baby Was Born, My Husband Saw Their Face—and Started Sneaking Out Every Night!”

I blamed exhaustion. We’d both been through hell. But at home, it didn’t fade. He fed her, changed her, did everything right—but rarely looked at her. His gaze hovered just above her face, as if he were afraid to meet it. When I tried to take newborn photos, he found excuses to leave. By the second week, I started waking to the sound of the front door clicking shut. By the fifth night, it had become a pattern.

“Where were you?” I asked over coffee, keeping my tone light.
“Couldn’t sleep. Went for a drive.”

That night, I pretended to sleep. Around midnight, he slipped out of bed. I grabbed my keys and followed him from a distance. He drove past our old date-night ice cream spot, out past the city, and pulled into a worn-down community center with a flickering sign: HOPE RECOVERY CENTER. He sat in the car for a long minute, then hunched his shoulders and went inside.

I waited, then peeked through a half-open window. Folding chairs in a circle. Twelve people. My husband, head in his hands.

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