Chapter 2: The Baby Behind The Locked Door
I ran upstairs.
Not walked.
Ran.
The hallway seemed longer than it had ever been.
“Lily?””
My voice cracked.
No answer.
I reached the nursery door and grabbed the handle.
It didn’t move.
Locked.
A cold feeling spread through my body.
“Mom?””
I turned.
Linda was standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching me.
“You locked my daughter in a room?””
“She’s not locked in.””
“Then open the door.””
“She’s sleeping.””
I stared at her.
“Open. The. Door.””
My mother sighed dramatically and walked upstairs.
“You’re being emotional.””
“She is ten days old.””
“And you’re acting like I’m a stranger.””
“You took her away from her mother.””
My mother finally unlocked the door.
The moment it opened, I heard Lily crying.
A small, helpless cry.
Emily appeared behind me.
She pushed past everything and rushed inside.
“My baby.””
She picked Lily up carefully, tears falling down her face.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered to our daughter.
“Mommy’s here.””
I stood frozen.
Because my wife wasn’t angry.
She wasn’t screaming.
She was apologizing to a newborn.
That hurt more than anything.
Linda walked into the room.
“She’s too attached.””
I looked at her.
“She’s a newborn.””
“You don’t understand. I’m trying to prevent Emily from becoming one of those mothers who can’t let go.””
Emily turned around.
“My baby needs me.””
Linda shook her head.
“You’re too sensitive.””
I stepped between them.
“No.””
My mother looked surprised.
“No?””
“No, Mom. You don’t get to decide what Emily needs.””
Her face tightened.
“I raised you.””
“And Emily just gave birth to our child.””
Silence filled the room.
Then Linda laughed softly.
“I can’t believe my own son is talking to me this way.””
I looked at the woman who had taught me right from wrong.
The woman who had held my hand when I was a child.
And I realized something painful.
Sometimes people change.
Sometimes they reveal who they really are when they believe nobody is watching.
“I trusted you,” I said.
My mother looked away.
“I came here because I wanted to help.””
“Help doesn’t make someone bleed.””
Her eyes narrowed.
“Bleed?””
She looked at Emily’s hand.
“Oh, please. She’s making this bigger than it is.””
Emily flinched.
That reaction told me everything.
This wasn’t the first time.
I turned toward my wife.
“Emily.””
She looked at me.
“Has this been happening every day?””
Her lips parted.
But no words came out.
That silence was the answer.
My hands curled into fists.
“How long?””
Emily looked down at Lily.
“She said I shouldn’t bother you because you were working.””
My mother immediately interrupted.
“She’s twisting things.””
I didn’t even look at her.
“Emily. How long?””
A tear rolled down my wife’s cheek.
“Since the day after we came home from the hospital.””
My heart stopped.
The day after.
My mother had been hurting my wife while I was at work.
I thought I was protecting them by providing for them.
I thought my family was safe.
I was wrong.
I walked downstairs, grabbed my phone, and called someone.
My mother followed.
“Who are you calling?””
I looked at her.
“Someone who can help us.””
Her expression changed.
“James, don’t make a mistake you’ll regret.””
I pressed the call button.
But before the person answered, my mother said quietly:
“You really want to know why Emily is so weak?””
I looked at her.
“What?””
She smiled.
“Ask her what happened the night Lily was born.””
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Then the phone in my hand connected.
And the voice on the other end said my name.
