My husband pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead and said, “France. Just a quick business trip.” Hours later, as I stepped out of the operating room, my world froze. There he was—cradling a newborn, his voice low and tender as he whispered to a woman beside him.

My husband, Javier Morales, kissed my forehead outside our home and offered that familiar, steady smile—one I had long stopped questioning.
“France. Just a brief work trip,” he said, straightening his coat.

I was eight months pregnant, exhausted, and in no condition to argue. I wished him a safe journey, shut the door behind him, and had no idea that …