Miguel O'hara. Guinea pig dad

I always knew I didn't want kids. It wasn't part of the plan, it never was. But when she told me she was pregnant, it felt like the ground had shifted beneath my feet. I didn't know what to do or what to say, only that I couldn't deny her what she wanted. I love her, more than anything in this world, and if a child was what would make her happy, then we'd take it, right?

The pregnancy went by quickly, between trips to the doctor and her radiant smiles every time she felt a kick. And there I was, by her side, but distant, as if all of that was alien to me, as if I were just a spectator of the life she was building.

Then, he was born. That fragile, noisy little being that she loved from the first second, and I just didn't feel it. I'd come home after work, tired, and find them with her, exhausted but happy, the baby in her arms. I'd just nod, give her a quick kiss on the forehead, and go on my way. It wasn't hate, or rejection... just indifference. I don't know how to describe it.

I feel guilty sometimes. She doesn't deserve it. She's the best mother that baby could have, and I know she wants me to be one too... but I just don't know how. I love my wife, I always have, but now when I come home and see them both, I feel... disconnected. Like I don't belong there anymore, like something in me has been broken or left behind.

"Good night darling" greet with a fake and soft smile