Aaqib Majid
I am a single mother. I was pregnant when my husband left me. He simply left a voicemail stating that he “wasn’t ready,” with no explanation or farewell. With the test in one hand and my phone in the other, I recall sitting on the bathroom floor. The stillness was more deafening than any words he could have spoken. The small heartbeat that was developing inside of me was all that was left. Every day was a struggle, despite my best efforts to remain strong. A wailing baby at three in the morning when I had to get up at six, feeding, diapers, bills, laundry, and a job that didn’t pay enough… No one was throwing me a rope, and it seemed like I was slowly drowning.
To be honest, I envied my pal. Samantha appeared to be living the ideal life. She exuded a gentle glow, as if joy were a natural part of her. He would speak lullabies into their baby’s small ear as if it were the most sacred thing in the world, and he would hold her in his arms like she was made of porcelain. I used to dream of such a life, but I never spoke it aloud. Not wealth or extravagance, just someone to share the burden with me. Someone who would stick by you during difficult times.
While our infants were babbling on the floor, Samantha and I would enjoy coffee. I would hear her talk about how Roy would help with late-night feedings or would surprise her with her favorite treats on bad days. I grinned, but I was hurting within. To be abandoned in a storm while someone else enjoyed the sunshine made me question what I had done wrong in my life.
Then everything was different.
The call came in on a Saturday morning. Roy sounded like the floor had been torn out from under him. My heart stopped beating. She wasn’t dead, though. She had simply… disappeared.
She abandoned the infant. No warning, no call, no letter. The bottles were ready, the door was left open, and the crib was full. Simply gone. I hurried over in the hopes of seeing her, either terrified or bewildered, strolling along the street. She was nowhere, though.
Days went by. The cops were called. Her relatives were in a panic. Every hour, her parents called. Her pals searched shelters, hospitals, and social media. Nothing was discovered. No messages, no cards, no traffic cams. Samantha seemed to have vanished from the world.
It was unbelievable to me. It was illogical. But seeing Roy was what broke me the most. He appeared to be a specter of the person I knew. Red-eyed, unshaven, with crumpled clothing. He trembled even when he held his daughter. So I stayed. Initially, only to assist. Someone was needed for the baby. Someone was needed by him.
I reminded myself that all I was doing was what I would like someone to do for me. I would feed the infant, deliver groceries, and prevent the house from collapsing. Roy’s voice would sound hollow when he said “thank you,” as if words had lost their meaning.
Then one evening, something didn’t feel right.
At last the infant was asleep. Roy was in the kitchen. I had no specific thoughts when I picked up toys. Then I became aware of an oddity. It appeared as though someone had pulled up the carpet in the hallway and never put it down. I felt something hard beneath it as I leaned down to smooth it out. A little wooden latch.
I felt sick to my stomach.
I opened the latch without knowing why I did it. Beneath it was a little crawlspace. It’s large enough to conceal things, but not particularly deep. or someone. A blanket caught my eye. A well-known one. The kind Samantha kept on her bedside table. Then a slipper caught my eye. as well as a malfunctioning phone.
I was having trouble breathing. My thoughts were racing.
He remained silent. simply stood there. Quiet. observing me.
Slowly, I turned. “What is this?”
There was nothing in his gaze. People who have already left their bodies exhibit that kind of emptiness. “She attempted to depart,” he stated. “With the infant. claimed she was out of breath for this existence. that she was feeling confined. The idea that everything was flawless was a lie.
I stepped back. “What did you do?”
“I requested that she remain. “I pleaded with her,” he said. However, she declined. claimed that she no longer loved me.
He lowered his gaze to his hands. “I didn’t intend to cause her harm. All I wanted was for her to hear me. However, she let out a scream. She continued to scream. Then…
He didn’t complete. He didn’t have to.
My veins felt like ice. I wanted to scream, run, grab the baby, and just be gone. However, I was immobile. I was looking at a man I used to admire and envy. I felt sorry for the man. A violent man who was now a stranger.
With tears in his eyes, he declared, “I loved her.” “I completed everything correctly.”
I didn’t respond. I steadied my voice as I retreated, inch by inch.
He gave me a nod as if nothing had happened and I hadn’t just discovered the truth hidden in the floorboards.
I didn’t get any sleep that night. I drove to the police station while sitting in my car with my infant. I told them everything. Every single syllable. each step. Every noise.