When I arrived at the hospital to bring home my wife, Suzie, and our newborn twins, I was met with heartbreak: Suzie was gone, leaving behind only a cryptic note. “Goodbye. Take care of them. Ask your mother WHY she did this to me.”
I had been eagerly anticipating the moment—bringing home my girls, surprising Suzie with a prepared nursery and dinner after nine long months of challenges. But now, I was left with two babies and a note that made no sense.mA nurse told me Suzie had checked out that morning, saying I knew. But I didn’t. The nurse said she’d seemed fine, just quiet. As I left the hospital in shock, holding my daughters, the note still clenched in my hand, I couldn’t understand what had happened. At home, my mother was waiting, excited to see the babies, but I was too numb to feel anything. She rushed forward, eager to hold them, but I stepped back, the weight of Suzie’s sudden disappearance pressing down on me. All I had now were my daughters, my shattered world, and the haunting question: What had my mother done?
