On Christmas Eve, my husband didn’t arrive, and when I called him, I heard a woman’s voice saying, “He can’t talk. He’s with his wife, giving birth to their baby.”

Memories of that awful fight we had last year crept into my mind. It was the only time I’d doubted him. I’d found a text from his ex on his phone — not flirty, but friendly enough to make me wonder. He’d explained it, apologized, and promised it wouldn’t happen again. And I’d believed him.

Now, my thoughts raced. Was he lying back then? Was something else going on?

At 8:00 p.m., I called him again. Still nothing.

By the tenth call, my hands were shaking. My mind was filled with worst-case scenarios. What if he was in an accident? What if he wasn’t coming home at all?

On the fifteenth try, someone finally picked up.

“Hello?” I said, my voice cracking.

A woman’s voice answered, calm and matter-of-fact. “He can’t talk right now. He’s with his wife in the delivery room. She’s having their baby.”

For a second, I thought I misheard her.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “What?”