Latest News
No News Sorry.

My Husband Came to Take Me and Our Newborn Triplets Home – When He Saw Them, He Told Me to Leave Them at the Hospital

After years of longing, Emily’s dream finally came true: she gave birth to beautiful triplet daughters. But just one day later, her husband abandoned them, claiming the babies were cursed.

 

 

I looked down at my three little girls, my heart swelling as I took them in. Sophie, Lily, and Grace were perfect, each one a miracle. I’d waited so long for them — years of hoping, waiting, and praying.

 

A woman with her triplets | Source: Midjourney

A woman with her triplets | Source: Midjourney

And now, here they were, asleep in their bassinets, tiny faces so peaceful. I wiped a tear from my cheek, overwhelmed by how fiercely I loved them already.

But then I looked up, and there was Jack. He’d just come back from running some errands, but something was wrong. He looked pale. His eyes wouldn’t meet mine, and he wouldn’t come close. He just stood by the door as if he wasn’t sure he even wanted to be in the same room.

A nervous man | Source: Freepik

A nervous man | Source: Freepik

Advertisement

“Jack?” I said softly, patting the chair beside my bed. “Come sit with me. Look at them — they’re here. We did it.”

“Yeah… they’re beautiful,” Jack mumbled, barely glancing at the girls. He moved a little closer, but still wouldn’t look me in the eye.

“Jack,” I said, my voice shaking, “what’s going on? You’re scaring me.”

A nervous woman in a maternity ward | Source: Midjourney

A nervous woman in a maternity ward | Source: Midjourney

He took a deep breath, then blurted out, “Emily, I don’t think… I don’t think we can keep them.”

I felt like the ground dropped out from under me. “What?” I choked out. “Jack, what are you talking about? They’re our daughters!”

He winced and looked away like he couldn’t stand to see my face. “My mom… she went to see a fortune teller,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Advertisement
A nervous man in a maternity word | Source: Midjourney

A nervous man in a maternity word | Source: Midjourney

I blinked, not sure I’d heard him right. “A fortune teller? Jack, you can’t be serious.”

“She said… she said these babies… our girls…” He paused, his voice unsteady. “She said they’d bring nothing but bad luck. That they’d ruin my life and be the reason I die.”

I gasped, staring at him, trying to wrap my head around what he was saying. “Jack, that’s insane. They’re just babies!”

An upset woman talking to her husband | Source: Midjourney

An upset woman talking to her husband | Source: Midjourney

Advertisement

He looked down, his face full of fear. “My mom swears by this fortune teller. She’s been right about things before, and… she’s never been so sure of something.”

I felt anger rising, hot and sharp. “So because of some ridiculous prediction, you want to abandon them? Just leave them here?”

An angry woman in maternity ward | Source: Midjourney

An angry woman in maternity ward | Source: Midjourney

He stopped, looking at me with fear mixed with guilt. “If you want to bring them home… fine,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I won’t be there. I’m sorry, Emily.”

I stared at him, trying to process his words, but all I felt was shock. “You’re really serious, aren’t you?” My voice broke. “You’re going to walk away from your daughters because of some story your mother heard?”

Advertisement
An angry woman talking to her husband | Source: Midjourney

An angry woman talking to her husband | Source: Midjourney

He didn’t say a word. He just looked down, his shoulders slumped.

I took a shaky breath, trying to keep myself together. “If you walk out that door, Jack,” I whispered, “you don’t come back. I won’t let you do this to our girls.”

He looked at me one last time, his face torn, but then he turned and walked to the door. “I… I’m sorry, Em,” he said quietly and left, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

A man walking away in the hospital | Source: Midjourney

A man walking away in the hospital | Source: Midjourney

Advertisement

I sat there, staring at the empty doorway, my heart pounding and my mind spinning. A nurse came back in, saw my face, and put a hand on my shoulder, offering silent comfort as I gathered my things.

I looked down at my babies, tears blurring my vision. “Don’t worry, girls,” I whispered, stroking each tiny head. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

A woman cuddling her triplets | Source: Midjourney

A woman cuddling her triplets | Source: Midjourney

As I held them close, I felt a mixture of fear and fierce determination growing inside me. I had no idea how I would do this alone, but I knew one thing for sure: I would never leave my girls. Not ever.

A few weeks had passed since Jack left, and every day without him was harder than I’d imagined. Taking care of three newborns alone was overwhelming.

Advertisement
A woman holding a baby | Source: Freepik

A woman holding a baby | Source: Freepik

Some days, I felt like I was barely hanging on, but I pushed through for Sophie, Lily, and Grace. They were my entire world now, and even though Jack’s abandonment was painful, I knew I had to focus on them.

One afternoon, my sister-in-law, Beth, came over to help with the babies. She was the only person from Jack’s family who was willing to stay in touch with me, and I agreed, thinking she might eventually convince Jack to come back. That day, I could tell something was bothering her.

A nervous woman in a chair | Source: Midjourney

A nervous woman in a chair | Source: Midjourney

Advertisement

Beth bit her lip, looking at me with a pained expression. “Emily, I heard something… I don’t know if I should tell you, but I can’t keep it to myself.”

My heart pounded. “Just tell me.”

She sighed, taking a deep breath. “I overheard Mom talking to Aunt Carol. She… she admitted that there was no fortune teller.”

Two nervous women talking | Source: Midjourney

Two nervous women talking | Source: Midjourney

I froze. “What do you mean, no fortune teller?”

Beth’s eyes filled with sympathy. “Mom made it up. She was worried that with triplets, Jack would have less time for her. She thought… she thought if she convinced him that the girls would bring bad luck, he’d stay close to her.”

Advertisement
A mature woman plotting something on her phone | Source: Midjourney

A mature woman plotting something on her phone | Source: Midjourney

The room felt like it was spinning. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I felt a surge of anger so fierce I had to put Grace down before my shaking hands gave me away.

“That woman,” I whispered, my voice thick with rage. “She tore my family apart for her own selfish reasons.”

An angry woman in her living room | Source: Midjourney

An angry woman in her living room | Source: Midjourney

Advertisement

Beth put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Emily. I don’t think she realized he’d leave you like this, but… I thought you should know the truth.”

I didn’t sleep that night. Part of me wanted to confront my mother-in-law, to make her face what she’d done. But another part of me wanted to reach out to Jack, tell him the truth, and hope he’d come back.

A sleepless woman in her room | Source: Midjourney

A sleepless woman in her room | Source: Midjourney

The next morning, I called Jack. My hands trembled as I dialed, each ring stretching out longer than the last. Finally, he answered.

“Jack, it’s me,” I said, my voice steady. “We need to talk.”

He sighed. “Emily, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

Advertisement
A sad man looking at his phone | Source: Freepik

A sad man looking at his phone | Source: Freepik

“Just listen,” I insisted, fighting to keep my voice from shaking. “There was no fortune teller, Jack. Your mother made it all up.”

There was a long silence. Then, he spoke, his voice calm but dismissive. “Emily, I don’t believe that. My mother wouldn’t make up something so serious.”

“She did, Jack,” I said, anger breaking through. “She admitted it to Carol. Beth heard her. She lied to you because she was afraid of losing you.”

An angry woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney

An angry woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney

Advertisement

He scoffed, the sound sharp and hurtful. “Look, Em, that fortune teller’s been right before. You don’t know her like I do. My mother wouldn’t lie about something this big.”

I felt my heart sink, but I forced myself to go on. “Jack, please, think about it. Why would I lie? This is your family, your daughters. How can you just abandon them over something like this?”

A sad woman on her phone | Source: Pexels

A sad woman on her phone | Source: Pexels

He didn’t answer, and finally, I heard him sigh. “I’m sorry, Emily. I can’t do this.”

The line went dead. I stared at the phone, realizing he’d made his choice. He was gone.

In the weeks that followed, I did my best to adapt to life as a single mother. Every day was a struggle, balancing feedings, diapers, and my own grief over the life I thought I’d have with Jack.

Advertisement
A woman holding a baby | Source: Pexels

A woman holding a baby | Source: Pexels

But slowly, things began to change. Friends and family stepped in to help, bringing meals and holding the babies so I could rest. And through it all, my love for Sophie, Lily, and Grace only grew. Every smile, every little coo, or tiny hand wrapped around my finger filled me with a joy that almost erased the pain of Jack’s absence.

Several weeks later, there was a knock at my door. I opened it, and there stood Jack’s mother. Her face was pale, her eyes full of regret.

A sad elderly woman | Source: Pexels

A sad elderly woman | Source: Pexels

Advertisement

“Emily,” she began, her voice shaking. “I… I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

I crossed my arms, struggling to keep my composure. “You lied to him. You convinced him his own children were a curse.”

Tears filled her eyes as she nodded. “I was afraid, Emily. I thought… I thought he’d forget about me if he had you and the girls. I never thought he’d actually leave.”

An upset elderly woman | Source: Pexels

An upset elderly woman | Source: Pexels

I felt my anger soften, but only a little. “Your fear tore my family apart.”

She looked down, her face crumpling. “I know. And I’m so, so sorry.”

I watched her for a moment, but my mind was already on my daughters, asleep in the next room. “I have nothing else to say to you.”

Advertisement
A serious woman with her arms crossed | Source: Freepik

A serious woman with her arms crossed | Source: Freepik

She left, and I closed the door, feeling a strange mix of relief and sadness.

One year later, Jack showed up at my door, looking like a ghost of the man I’d once loved. He pleaded, saying he’d finally realized his mistake and wanted to come back, to be with us, and to be a family again.

A sad man | Source: Pexels

A sad man | Source: Pexels

Advertisement

But I knew better now. I looked him straight in the eyes and shook my head. “I already have a family, Jack. You weren’t there when we needed you. I don’t need you now.”

As I closed the door, I felt a weight lift. After all, it wasn’t me or our daughters who ruined his life. He did it himself.

A woman looking to the side with her hands crossed | Source: Freepik

A woman looking to the side with her hands crossed | Source: Freepik

Liked this story? Consider checking out this one: When a new family moved in next door, the eerie resemblance between their daughter and my own sent me spiraling into suspicion. Could my husband be hiding an affair? I had to confront him, but the truth turned out to be far darker than I imagined.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.