Chapter 5 - The Breaking Point
Day four of Caleb's ordeal was when his carefully constructed facade of superiority completely collapsed.
Arthur sent me a short video clip at noon. In it, Caleb was pacing the living room floor in gray sweatpants stained with sour milk and diaper cream. His hair was sticking up in three different directions, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was desperately bouncing Elodie while trying to balance a laptop on the breakfast bar with one hand.
Arthur’s voice could be heard from behind the camera: ""Client call in five minutes, son. Hope your quarterly pitch accounts for infant colic.""
Caleb suddenly stopped, looked directly at the camera, and burst into tears. ""I can't do this! I can't do both! I haven't slept more than forty-five minutes at a stretch in four days! If I take a shower, I freeze! If I try to eat, she screams! How does anyone live like this?!""
Arthur didn't mock him. In the video, his tone shifted from punitive to dead serious. ""She lived like that for forty days, Caleb. While you sat behind that closed door with your noise-canceling headphones, judging her every move and turning off her water.""
When I visited the condo on the fifth morning to bring a batch of pumped milk and check on Elodie myself, I barely recognized the man who answered the door. Caleb had lost weight, dark hollows circled his eyes, and he flinched at the slightest sudden noise.
When he saw me standing in the doorway—dressed in clean clothes, hair washed and blow-dried, standing tall with my energy restored—he looked like a prisoner staring at an angel of mercy.
""Tessa,"" he choked out, his voice cracked and raw. He reached out to touch my arm, but his hand trembled and fell back to his side. ""You look... you look wonderful.""
""Where is she?"" I asked, stepping past him into the foyer.
The apartment smelled entirely different. The sink was piled with dishes, laundry baskets overflowed with tiny onesies and burp cloths, and half-eaten pieces of toast lay abandoned on paper plates. In the nursery, Elodie was sleeping soundly in her crib, completely oblivious to the chaos around her. I leaned over the railing, stroked her soft cheek, and felt my heart swell with an overwhelming wave of fierce, protective love. I had missed her desperately every minute I was away, but being away had given me the clarity I needed to see that our marriage was fundamentally broken.
Caleb crept into the nursery behind me. He stood two feet away, wringing his hands like a nervous schoolboy.
""She finally went down twenty minutes ago,"" he whispered, sounding terrified of waking her. ""I swaddled her three times because she kept breaking her arms out. I checked the temperature of the milk with a kitchen thermometer. I... I washed the bottles with boiling water like your note said.""
I turned to look at him. ""How were your showers today, Caleb?""
He dropped his head, staring at his bare feet on the hardwood. Tears welled up in his eyes and rolled down his scruffy cheeks. ""I didn't take one. I was too afraid the timer would buzz while she was choking or crying. I haven't showered in two days, Tessa. I feel disgusting. I feel... humiliated.""
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""You feel like a mother,"" I said quietly.
""I'm sorry,"" he whispered, sinking to his knees right there on the nursery floor. ""Tessa, God, I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I swear to you, I didn't know.""
