Suicide Watch with the Other Woman's Child

Summary

My wife had postpartum depression. The day she stood on the edge of the rooftop, ready to throw herself off, I didn't reach out to pull her back.

Instead, I dragged a five-year-old boy out from behind me, pointed at her, and sneered.

"Go on, jump. Do it quickly."

"The second you hit the pavement, I'm bringing this boy into our home. He'll take your place."

"He'll live in your house, spend your money, and beat your precious daughter."

On cue, the little boy looked up at me with wide, timid eyes and called me "Daddy."