“What’s wrong?” I asked instantly.
Emily glanced nervously toward the doorway before she could answer.
Then the phone shifted suddenly and my mother appeared instead. She dismissed Emily as emotional and dramatic, then criticized her for struggling after childbirth because, according to her, women in previous generations handled motherhood without “turning the house upside down.”
I went silent after that conversation.
I hate that silence now because silence can become permission when cruel people are listening. Instead of defending Emily firmly, I allowed my mother to frame my wife’s suffering as weakness while I stayed hundreds of miles away pretending things would improve.
The work situation finished earlier than expected on the fifth night, and I decided to drive home immediately without telling anyone. Around midnight, I started calling the house repeatedly, but nobody answered. Finally, at 2:03 a.m., Ashley sent a text message saying everyone was asleep and I needed to stop worrying.
