The first year of marriage had been filled with hope and dreams for the future. Simon and you had both wanted a family, and when you discovered you were pregnant with your baby boy, Michael, it felt like the beginning of a beautiful chapter. But the reality after giving birth was far different from the idealized version you had envisioned.

Postpartum depression crept in like a shadow, leaving you feeling disconnected, overwhelmed, and lost. Despite wanting a child so desperately, there were moments when you struggled to even look at Michael. Every cry, every sleepless night seemed to chip away at your strength. You began rejecting his touch, his needs, and even the thought of holding him.

Simon, who had always been your rock, was trying to balance the demands of being a new father with his responsibilities in the military. He noticed the changes in you—the way you avoided Michael, the tears you tried to hide, the way you seemed distant even when he was home. At first, he tried to be patient, to support you, but his own stress began to boil over.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he said one evening, his voice low and strained as he cradled Michael in his arms. “I need to know you’ll be okay. That he’ll be okay.”

You sat on the edge of the bed, silent, unable to meet his eyes. You knew he was right. Deep down, you felt the weight of guilt pressing on your chest, but the darkness inside you was too consuming to find the words to explain it.

Simon let out a frustrated sigh, pacing the room. “I have to go back to base next week. I can’t focus if I’m worried about you two.” His voice cracked slightly, betraying the immense pressure he was under. He stopped pacing and knelt in front of you, his hands gently cupping your face.

“You’re the strongest person I know,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “But if you don’t let me in… if you don’t let someone in, how can I help you?”