I blamed exhaustion. We’d both been through hell. But at home, it didn’t fade. He fed her, changed her, did everything right—but rarely looked at her. His gaze hovered just above her face, as if he were afraid to meet it. When I tried to take newborn photos, he found excuses to leave. By the second week, I started waking to the sound of the front door clicking shut. By the fifth night, it had become a pattern.Continue reading…
