Not of what he’d done.
Of what everyone else could now see.
He whispered, “I didn’t think it was that bad.”
The words landed harder than every cruel sentence before them.
Because they were honest.
He truly hadn’t thought it was that bad.
He had watched his pregnant wife disappear into a basement every night and never once imagined what that might feel like.
Vivian turned toward the hallway closet.
She opened the door.
Reached inside.
Then pulled out the folded camping cot Caleb used whenever friends visited and there wasn’t enough space.
She carried it into the living room.
Opened it with a loud metallic snap.
“What are you doing?” Caleb asked.
She looked him straight in the eye.
“From tonight forward, this is where you sleep.”
“What?”
“Mara sleeps in the bedroom.”
“Mom, that’s ridiculous.”
“No.”
She pointed toward the narrow cot.
“This is ridiculous.”
Then she pointed toward the basement.
“That…”
her voice broke,
“…was unforgivable.”
Caleb stared at the cot.
Then at me.
Then back at his mother.
“I don’t deserve this.”
Vivian’s expression hardened.
“No.”
She paused.
“You deserved to spend one night downstairs.”
The apartment became so quiet that I could hear rainwater dripping from the balcony outside.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody moved.
Then my stomach suddenly tightened.
Hard.
Much harder than before.
I grabbed the back of a chair.
Vivian immediately rushed to my side.
“Mara?”
I couldn’t answer.
Another wave of pain rolled across my abdomen.
Longer.
Stronger.
Caleb’s face drained of color.
“What…what’s wrong?”
I looked at the clock.
Then back at him.
“I think…”
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