My Wife Hid in the Closet Every Night After Giving Birth, So I Divorced Her

“In the past year since he was born, you’ve been working nonstop. Have you ever actually taken care of your son?” Yessenia’s voice trembled, her eyes red with emotion.

“I know I made mistakes, I pushed you away. But we finally have a family, Jackson. If we run into problems, we should talk, not give up. Can’t we try to make it work?”

I didn’t even look at her. My voice came out cold. “Take your son and leave.”

Yessenia froze. Her face fell and she stared at me in disbelief. “Jackson… he’s your son too. Just ask yourself, how often have you even held him? Changed his diaper? Made him a bottle?

“Yes, you were out working for the first few months, but after that… you stopped trying. Days would go by without a single word from you, without you even glancing at him.”

She took a shaky breath and looked down at the baby in her arms. “Can’t you see how much he wants you? Look at the way he stares at you, he’s waiting for his dad to hold him. He even has your eyes.”

Something stirred in me. I turned, slowly and looked at the child.

Yessenia’s face lit up as she stepped closer, gently holding the baby out to me. “I knew you weren’t that heartless. Whatever we’ve been through… for his sake, we can’t give up that easily. Let’s try again.”

That day, I said nothing, just stared at the boy smiling up at me.

Once upon a time, that smile would’ve melted my heart. But now, my heart was stone.

I had printed several copies of the divorce agreement and without fail, Yessenia tore up every single one.

She refused to sign. For someone so proud, she kept humbling herself, trying to give me a way out.

If I really wanted this divorce, I needed a new strategy.

Three days passed in silence. Then, the moment came.

“Jackson?” Yessenia’s voice called softly through the dark as she tiptoed into the room.

I didn’t respond, just breathed evenly.

She let out a quiet sigh of relief and turned to leave. During the divorce process, Yessenia and I had been sleeping in separate rooms.

After giving birth, she took on most of the childcare, except at night.

The doctor diagnosed her with postpartum depression and insisted she get proper rest. So we hired a confinement nanny and two babysitters.

Every night, after the lights went out, she’d slip into the closet, curl up tightly and sleep there.

That night, I had just shut my eyes when I heard three soft, rhythmic knocks in the darkness.

It felt unreal, like some twisted dream, but I knew it wasn’t.

After waiting a few minutes, I sat up and called the police. “Hello? 911? My wife’s been murdered. Yes, the address is...”

Once I hung up, I called my friends and family one by one, urging them to come as fast as they could.

My father-in-law, mother-in-law and brother-in-law arrived almost instantly.

The moment they heard Yessenia was in danger, panic overtook them. Their eyes were bloodshot and I could tell they wanted to tear me apart. “Where is she? Where did you take Yessenia?”

My mother-in-law’s voice shook. She hadn’t even bothered to grab a coat.

With tears streaming down her face, she turned the whole house upside down. “You bastard! Where’s my daughter? She hasn’t left the house since giving birth! How could she just disappear in the middle of the night?”

My father-in-law glared at me, his expression like stone. “Jackson, if anything happens to my daughter, I’ll make sure you regret it for the rest of your life.”

I was the only one who stayed silent, my face unreadable. “Don’t worry.”

The others, unsure what I meant, continued to flail in panic, searching every corner of the house.

Someone tried calling Yessenia, only for her phone to ring from the bedside table. She was gone, but her phone was still here.

I glanced at my watch. “Not everyone is here yet.”

One by one, the friends and family I had called started to arrive.

Though it was the middle of the night, their curiosity got the better of them. The moment they heard my wife had vanished, they began whispering and gossiping in hushed but excited tones.

Some accused me of putting on a show, pointing fingers to hide my own guilt. Others speculated I’d killed Yessenia for the insurance money.

After all, I had been demanding a divorce just days ago and now she had vanished without a trace. Surely, I must’ve done something to her.

As the tension in the room thickened, I finally let out a cold laugh.

“Yessenia isn’t dead,” I said, rising from my wheelchair. “And she’s not missing either. I said that to make sure every single one of you came tonight.”

I looked around, meeting each of their faces. “As for where she went... I’ll show you. See it with your own eyes.”

With that, I pressed the remote and opened the closet door.