I gave birth prematurely, my baby was in the NICU, and I had to stay in the hospital.
My husband kept telling me how perfect our baby is.
2 weeks later, I asked the nurse if I could finally see my child.
She turned pale and said, “Your husband never…”
The nurse’s voice caught in her throat. She looked as if she’d said too much — or maybe too little. I stared at her, heart pounding, a chill creeping down my spine.
“What do you mean?” I asked, gripping the sheets.
She took a shaky breath. “Your husband never checked in. Not once. He hasn’t visited the NICU. He… he hasn’t even been registered here since the night you gave birth.”
Silence.
It hit me like a punch to the gut.
“That’s not possible.”
My voice was hollow.
“He’s been texting me every day. Sending photos of the baby. He said she opened her eyes yesterday.”
The nurse gently shook her head. “There are no visitor logs under his name. And… those photos?” She hesitated. “Could you show me one?”
My hands were shaking as I opened the messages. But when I tapped into our conversation — everything was gone.
No photos. No texts. Just…
“This contact has been deleted.”
It felt like the air had been sucked from the room.
The nurse leaned closer. “Ma’am… I think you need to speak to hospital security.”
I couldn’t breathe.
Where was my husband?
Where was my baby?
And if he hadn’t been visiting her… then who had?
A cold dread settled in my bones.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown Number
1 new message:
“She’s safe with me now. You wouldn’t understand why. Not yet.”
My blood ran cold.
The nurse saw the message too, her eyes wide with alarm.
“Ma’am… I think your child’s been taken.”
And that’s when I realized:
This wasn’t just a misunderstanding.
This was a carefully planned lie.
And I had two choices: fall apart —
Or fight like hell to get my baby back.