wc: 1.4k
cw : cheating, postpartum depression
an : how do we feel about this one, let me know..
Sukuna knew the possible repercussions of having a baby, but you'd seemed fine—happy even, while you were pregnant. He'd known of the possible side effects that some women can go through, the most prevalent one he'd heard of being postpartum depression, but he'd never thought that it was going to happen to you. To his wife, to the beaming light of sunshine that he'd married. He didn't even recognize you sometimes, the previous light in your eyes now nothing but a dull shadow, the smile that used to practically haunt your face was almost nowhere to be seen, and worst of all? You'd barely even spent time with the baby asides from breastfeeding and changing diapers, your baby, the one you'd been so excited about when you first found out you were pregnant. You felt awful about it, really. You didn't even recognize yourself either, didn't recognize who was looking back at you when you'd stare in the mirror after a shower, feeling like you were stuck in a fog. It wasn't helping that you were sleep deprived either. Didn't help that no matter how long you closed your eyes and laid down, you just couldn't fall asleep, and the other times when you finally did manage to fall asleep? The baby would start crying again, and you'd wake up before you could even get at-least four hours of rest. It was tearing you apart, feeling so exhausted. You wondered if it was normal to hate every second of breastfeeding, if it was normal to think about falling down the stairs or purposely doing something dangerous just so that you could get some rest, wondered if it was normal to cry for hours on end worrying that your baby would grow up with an awful mother, worrying that you wouldn't be able to protect them from the darkness of the world. And Sukuna couldn't do anything but watch as you sunk deeper and deeper into that hole of helplessness, of nothingness. He tried, tried to help, to comfort you, but it was like no matter how hard he tried, nothing ever got through to you. Nothing ever helped. It was killing him, watching you suffer and feeling like he couldn't do anything to make it better, to make you better. He tried, he really did, but.. eventually, after months of trying so desperately to make you feel better, months of wiping your tears and doing everything he could in an attempt to put a smile on your face at-least once? He gave up.
Stopped opening the curtains wide in the morning and attempting to get you out of bed, started picking up longer shifts at work, leaving you to handle the baby a lot more. You wondered if this was what motherhood was supposed to feel like, wondered if it was supposed to feel like drowning over and over again with nobody coming to save you instead of feeling like standing in the middle of a sunflower field with sunshine and a smile on your face. Even your marriage was starting to fall apart because of it, because of you. And it all made you feel worse, watching as he started sleeping with his back towards you instead of with his arm around your waist, watching as he slowly but surely stopped asking how you were feeling, stopped bringing you breakfast in bed or making sure you ate. You felt like it was your fault. Felt like you'd ruined everything. You hadn't meant too. Hadn't meant to ruin your marriage, hadn't meant to cause arguments between you and Sukuna, your husband who used to be so kind to you, who used to treat you like you were the only thing that mattered in his life. You missed him. Not this version of him, but the version of him that used to worship you in a way that nobody could've ever competed with. You missed the way he held you when you cried, missed the way he used to pepper kisses all over your face in the mornings as a sweet gesture before you gave birth, missed how he used to bring you flowers monthly just because he could. He didn't do any of that anymore. He didn't look at you like you hung the moon, his hands never reached for your waist in that caressing way that they used too, he didn't compliment you or tell you he loved you as much anymore, hell, he barely even helped out with your child. The one he used to talk to through your stomach when you were still pregnant.
You hated it. Hated how distant he felt, hated the nights where he'd come home late and when you asked where he'd been he'd just reply "Work" in that exhausted voice of his as if that made up for it. You hated how dull everything seemed now, hated how sad you always felt. You hated all of it.
And you hated it all even more when he came home with another woman's perfume on his clothes, hated it when you called him out on it and all he had to say was "Stop being ridiculous, you sound insane." You couldn't even believe your ears when he'd said that, and for a moment you had to ask yourself, is this really the same man you married? The same man who used to literally sweep you off your feet and tuck you into bed at 10o'clock sharp because he didn't want the mother of the "biggest blessing in his life" to not get adequate rest?
Truth was, Sukuna didn't know what to do. He didn't want to say anything about it, but he didn't know if he loved you anymore. He didn't want to break your heart or have your baby, his baby grow up in a broken home, so he'd been keeping quiet about it. And the worst part? He didn't even know how to tell you that on top of not being sure if he loved you anymore, he'd also started seeing one of his co-workers on the side.
He hadn't meant for things to go this way; she'd practically came onto him! Is what he kept telling himself to make his guilt feel less prominent every time he met up with her in a restaurant or kissed her on the lips in the same passionate way that he used to do with you.
He didn't want you to find out, of course not, that'd just make everything worse, so he did his best to cover it up and whenever he came home smelling like someone else's perfume he just made up an excuse saying that he'd hugged a few of his co-workers at an event or a work after-party, letting out an internal sigh of relief every time you seemed to believe him.
He tried to be around more, for the baby and such, but he wasn't doing good at that either. Sometimes at night he'd stay awake and wait for you to fall asleep, and then he'd sit up in bed and turn to look at your face, at the very features he once adored, at the soft lips he used to kiss daily, at your nose, at your closed eyes, remembering how he used to love looking at the color of them, how he used to zone out entirely when you'd talk to him because of how beautiful he thought they were.
And when he laid back down beside you in silence? All he could think of was what was going to happen if you found out, of how you'd react, of how his child, the child that you'd carried inside of you for nine months, the one that he'd begged you to have, would grow up in a broken home if you ever found out. He'd lay there for hours, stuck in his head. Almost regretting the way everything had gone, regretting everything that he'd done behind your back.
He kept telling himself that he'd end it, that he'd call things off with that woman he'd been seeing for the past few months, that he'd start focusing on you and the baby, that he'd make sure things all went back to normal. But he never stayed true to his word, to the promises he made to himself late at night.
All he could hope every morning that he woke up and every night that he fell asleep was that you stayed unaware of the affair he'd been having, and that hopefully, one day he'd be able to make everything right again, even if he knew that by tomorrow evening he'd be in bed with that same woman, the one he kept telling himself he'd drop to focus on you, the mother of his child instead.
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