It was past midnight when I heard a knock. Who it could be at such an odd time, I had a rough idea, but I wanted to check in order to be confirmed. So I walk to the main door only to see that my parents are already at the door, staring at the man I love. My parents might also be expecting him there, but I can see the shock on their faces. It wasn’t because of him coming home at such an odd time, but the reason for it was his drunken state. They knew he drinks occasionally, but they never saw him when he was drunk. And it wasn’t just that. Just like me, even they can see the hundreds of emotions running in his eyes, the sadness and hurt clearly evident on his face. He looks so devastated, like if they say something right now he will start crying and may also fall to his knees.

And right now all I can think of is crossing my parents and hugging him, and telling him it’s okay, I’m here, he is not alone. But something keeps me rooted to my place, where they all cannot see me. My parents, without a single word, let him walk to the couch in the living room and sit there. They have hundreds of things to exchange, but they know if any one of them started on them, it will be a disaster. None of them know how to walk out of it. So they avoid it for now.

After a few minutes, when he finally settles on the couch, ready to fall asleep, my dad moves to the bedroom. I don’t know what is running in all of their heads. Somewhere I’m scared of how this night could take turns. But I stay still. The moment my dad walks back to the couch, he lays a tiny baby beside my man. I take a sharp inhale. Our baby. For a moment, in order to find a way to calm my man down, I forgot about the baby. I feel like a bad mother. I can’t express in words how badly I want to run to them, my man and our baby.

It doesn’t matter how badly I want to walk to that couch, something still holds me back. I just stare at them from my place. It was the moment my baby’s hand touches his bicep, I feel like it’s my own hand resting on his heart, trying to tell him everything is okay. And immediately I feel his hands on my own, him silently telling me he knows. I blink out of that moment only to find my baby peacefully sleeping on his chest. And my parents walk out of there. I wait for both of them to fall asleep. But he won’t. He is wide awake, looking at our baby but lost in some other world.

When the phone on the table lights up, it catches his attention. He takes that phone and walks towards my parents’ bedroom. And I silently follow him, and when we are at an audible distance I hear them arguing. My mom complains how much of a bad idea it was to let him in and give the baby in his hands. Dad tries to calm her down and explain things. But in that moment she says, “He can’t even handle himself. Didn’t you see him when he walked in here? How can you expect him to look after the baby? How can your daughter be so foolish to give him such a big responsibility?”

I can clearly see the wheels turning in his head, but he stays calm because I once asked him to be patient with my parents. He keeps that phone on a nearby stand and walks back to the couch, to our baby, and sits there in silence.

It’s in that moment a single tear drops from his eyes. Whatever was holding me back cannot stop me now. I walk up to him, wanting to hug him so badly. When I reach out to touch his shoulder, I hear his voice, too low. If it wasn’t for the silence stretched in this room, or if it wasn’t for all my focus on him, I wouldn’t have heard it.

He says, while the tears keep falling from his eyes,
“I know you might have had your reasons for this. I know you love me enough to not leave me behind like this, but maybe in that moment your love for our daughter made you take that decision. I respect your decision. I know I’m not perfect for this, but trust me, I’ll raise her the way you always dreamed of. I know you. You might have left us behind, but you will always be here to support me, guide me, just like you are now. You are not dead, at least not for me. I love you.”

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