“If you need anything, call the hospital,” she said softly. “Thank you,” I whispered, stepping inside, feeling more alone than ever. I needed Faelar to understand what he’d done.
My heart pounded as I packed a bag for me and Zevon. Each item I folded felt like another piece of my trust breaking. Zevon’s soft coos clashed with the storm inside me.
Faelar, still oblivious, watched from the couch. “Nixie, what are you doing?” he asked, finally sensing something was wrong. “I’m leaving,” I said, avoiding his eyes.
“I need time to think, and you need to figure out your priorities.”
He jumped up, blocking my path. “Wait, let’s talk. You can’t just leave.”
“I left a note,” I said coldly.
“Read it when I’m gone.”
I brushed past him, his gaze heavy on my back. I strapped Zevon into his car seat, my hands shaking. The drive to my sister’s house was a blur, my mind racing with painful thoughts.
My sister, Lyric, opened the door, her face a mix of worry and confusion. “Nixie, what happened?”
“Faelar…” I started, my voice breaking. “He chose sneakers over us.”
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t press.
She hugged me tightly and brought us inside. For a week, Faelar’s calls and texts flooded my phone. Each one brought a pang of guilt and sadness.
His messages ranged from frantic apologies to tearful voicemails, but I ignored them. I needed him to feel the void he’d created. He showed up at Lyric’s daily, knocking and pleading.
Lyric stood firm, turning him away. “She’s not ready, Faelar,” she’d say. One evening, as the sun set, Lyric put a hand on my shoulder.
“Nixie, maybe you should talk to him. He looks… broken.”
I hesitated but knew she was right. I couldn’t avoid him forever.
I agreed to see him the next day. When Faelar arrived, I was shocked. He looked rough—unkempt, with dark circles under his eyes.
Tears fell the moment he saw me. “Nixie,” he choked out, “I’m so sorry. I was an idiot.
I didn’t realize how much I hurt you. Please, let me fix this.”
I held Zevon close, my heart aching at his pain. “Faelar, this isn’t just about missing the pickup.
It’s what it means. Our family has to come first, always.”
He nodded, wiping tears. “I know.
I’ll change. I’m seeing a therapist to work on my priorities and communication. Please, give me a chance.”
I studied him, seeing genuine remorse in his eyes.
“I’ll give you one chance, Faelar. But if you let us down again, I’m gone for good.”
Relief flooded his face, and he stepped closer, but I stopped him. “One more thing,” I said firmly.
“Until you prove you’re ready to be a responsible father and husband, you’re on full-time baby duty. No excuses.”
He looked stunned but nodded. “Anything, Nixie.
I’ll do anything.”
I handed him Zevon, watching him struggle to adjust. He had no idea what was coming, but I needed him to learn what it took to care for our son. For two weeks, Faelar handled everything—diapers, night feedings, baths, and chores.
The first days were chaos, filled with confusion. “Nixie, how do I stop his crying?” he’d ask, desperation in his voice as he rocked Zevon. “Try feeding him,” I said, hiding a smile.
As days passed, Faelar struggled through sleepless nights and messy diapers, his frustration clear. But he didn’t quit. Slowly, he found his rhythm, learning to soothe Zevon’s cries and make him giggle with silly faces.
One night, after a brutal day of spilled milk, endless crying, and diaper rash, Faelar broke down. Sitting on the bed, holding Zevon, tears streamed down his face. “I’m so sorry, Nixie,” he said, voice thick.
“I was such an idiot. I didn’t realize how hard this is, how much I hurt you. Please forgive me.”
Seeing him finally understand, my heart softened.
I sat beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I forgive you, Faelar. You’ve learned your lesson.”
Faelar changed.
He became the supportive partner and loving father I knew he could be. He never missed a moment—midnight feedings, first smiles, anything. His priorities were clear, and he made sure we knew we were his world.
