She called me twice that day.

I answered the second time.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” she said.

“Good.”

“I thought I was protecting the baby.”

“You were protecting Caleb from the consequences of his choices.”

She was silent for several seconds.

Then she said:

“You’re right.”

That was all I needed from her.

A few days later, Caleb returned to pick up more clothes.

“I ended things with Mara,” he said.

I leaned against the doorway.

“That was something you needed to do whether I ever took you back or not.”

“I want to fix our marriage.”

“I don’t know if you can.”

“What about us?”

I looked toward the stairs.

Our daughter was asleep upstairs.

For weeks, I had thought sleep deprivation was the hardest part of becoming a mother.

I had been wrong.

While I was learning how to feed and comfort our baby, my husband had been arranging his life so his lies wouldn’t catch up with him.