At night, I noticed that my husband was in the room with our one-month-old baby, even though he had just left the house: I went into the nursery and saw something terrifying… 

My husband and I had recently become parents. Our firstborn completely turned our lives upside down. The first few weeks felt like something out of a movie — exhausting, but joyful. I couldn’t take my eyes off my husband and the tenderness with which he held our son. He seemed like the perfect father.

But something began to change. At first, it was small things — he started coming home later from work, grew irritable, gave short answers. Every evening, as soon as Artyom fell asleep, he asked for “an hour to himself.” He’d shut himself in his study or leave without explaining where he was going.

It hurt. I thought maybe he was just tired, or maybe he had postpartum depression — fathers go through a lot too. I gave him space. But everything changed yesterday.

Our son woke up crying in the middle of the night. I was about to go into the room when I instinctively glanced at the baby monitor. The camera showed that he had simply dropped his pacifier and was already calming down. But suddenly… I noticed movement in the corner of the screen.

I froze. My husband was in the frame. He was standing in the dim light, motionless, staring at the crib. But… he had just left the house. I heard the front door close!

My breath caught. I jumped up and ran to the nursery. What I saw there horrified me  See the continuation in the first comment 

There was no one in the room but our son. No husband, no sound. A few minutes later, he came home from the store — holding a shopping bag, calm, as if nothing had happened.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I showed him the camera footage. He went pale. He sank to the floor and whispered:

— I thought it wouldn’t happen again…

He told me that when he was a teenager, he had been diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder. Over the years, the symptoms had almost disappeared, and he thought it was gone for good.

But with the birth of our son, another personality “woke up” inside him. He had no memory of what happened when it took control. And that part of him… felt hatred toward infants. Unexplained, dangerous hatred.

He cried. Said he’d started noticing time lapses, strange dreams, objects he didn’t remember touching. He thought he was going crazy.

He asked for forgiveness. Begged me not to be afraid. Promised to see a doctor, to get admitted to a clinic. And I… I wanted to believe him.

But that night, while he was asleep on the couch, I checked his phone. There was a voice memo, recorded on the dictaphone app — one he probably hadn’t even heard himself. A male voice — but strange, dull, angry — whispered:

— Tomorrow. Tomorrow we’ll get rid of him.

I couldn’t risk it anymore. In the morning, he woke up in an empty apartment. I had taken our son and gone to my parents’.

Now we live in another city. My husband is in treatment. We speak only through lawyers. I don’t know who he was in that moment — a father or a monster. But from now on, I trust only myself.