After nine months abroad, I returned home to my wife and newborn daughter. Everything seemed perfect until our faithful German Shepherd started behaving strangely near the baby’s cot. His desperate barking caused me to investigate and uncover a mystery that would destroy our family forever.
I couldn’t stop staring at her sleeping face, memorising every detail as if I was afraid she would disappear if I blinked. My daughter. My daughter.
After nine months in Dubai, endless video calls and blurry ultrasound photos, I was finally home and held my precious Jenna in my arms.
Her weight in my arms was like an anchor, grounding me after months of navigating life in a foreign country.
‘She has your nose,’ Ruby whispered, leaning over to hug me. “I kept telling Mum that during our conversations. And look at those little wrinkles when she dreams…she looks so much like you.”
I turned to kiss her, breathing in the familiar scent of her coconut shampoo, letting myself sink into the comfort of my home.
“I missed you both so much. The flat in Dubai was just a place to sleep, but being here with you two…this is home.”
‘We’ve missed you too,’ Ruby replied. ‘It’s been hard to get through this without you.’
Max, our German Shepherd, sat quietly at my feet, quietly tapping his tail on the nursery floor. He hadn’t moved a step away from me since I’d walked through the door six hours ago, except to check on the baby at the slightest sound.
His presence was comforting, a constant guardian watching over our little family.
‘He’s already the best big brother ever,’ Ruby said, scratching him behind the ears. “Isn’t he, boy? He sleeps here every night, keeping watch.”
‘Just like he did with my boots,’ I grinned, remembering how he guarded my work boots before I left. ‘Remember that, mate?’
The first few days felt like a dream. We got into a rhythm of nappy changes and midnight feedings, furtively kissing in between baby duties. Max watched us all, his brown eyes wary but calm.
I thought back to all the little moments I’d missed with Jenna: her first smile, the way she blew her nose before crying, the way she grabbed Ruby’s finger during feedings. Everything seemed perfect. Too perfect.
The first crack appeared during a 3 a.m. feeding.
I got up to heat the bottle when I heard Ruby whispering from the living room. The soft yellow light from her phone screen cast shadows on her face, making her look somehow older and haggard.
‘I can’t keep this up,’ she said, nervously rubbing her hair with her free hand. ‘He’s already home, and…’ She stopped abruptly when she saw me and quickly ended the conversation: ‘Mum, I have to go.’
But it wasn’t her mum.
I knew the way she talked to her mother – casual, relaxed, with a slight chuckle. It was strained and guilty. The way she didn’t meet my gaze as she hurried past me into the kitchen turned something over in my gut
‘Is everything okay?’ I asked, trying to keep my voice calm even though my heart was already picking up speed.
‘Just mum being mum,’ she said, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “You know how worried she gets. Especially with the baby and everything.”
I wanted to press on, to ask why she had to have these conversations at three in the morning, but the baby’s cry broke through the tension.
Ruby practically ran to the nursery, leaving me standing there with an empty bottle and a growing sense of anxiety.
More calls followed, always quiet and stopping when I entered the room. Ruby began taking her phone into the bathroom with her while showering, something she had never done before. She also started spending hours in the nursery just looking at the cot. Then came the bank statement.
‘Fifteen thousand dollars, Ruby?’ I held out the paper, my hands shaking. “What kind of baby supplies cost thirty thousand? The nursery is already full.”
‘We needed…I needed to get ready,’ she stammered, pointing to the mountains of nappies and wipes stacked in every corner. “You were gone for so long and I just… I panicked a bit. It’s just like new mums, you know?”
“Panicked? Ruby, that’s a huge chunk of our savings. And these receipts…” I flicked through them, and my stomach rumbled. “Size 2T baby clothes? She won’t be wearing them for at least another year.”
‘I’m into the sale, okay?’ She snarled, snatching the receipts out of my hands. “Why are you making such a fuss? Don’t you trust me?”
I wanted to believe her. God, how I wanted to believe her. But Max knew better.
He started setting up tents in the nursery with Ruby as she sat there. When Ruby wasn’t holding Jenna, Max was constantly poking his muzzle into her. He also started whimpering at the cot. The very cot where he used to be so calm.
He paced, barked, and looked at us with his knowing eyes. Sometimes, late at night, I would catch him beating his paw on the base of the cot as if trying to show me something.