I was upstairs rocking the baby when I heard them arguing.

At first, I ignored it.

Then his mother said:

“You told me it was over.”

I stopped rocking.

Silence.

Then Caleb answered:

“Mom, not here.”

“No. I’m tired of covering for you.”

My entire body went cold.

Covering for him?

I stood up with the baby against my chest and started toward the stairs.

Naturally, that was the exact moment she began to cry.

I bounced her gently.

“It’s okay. Mommy’s here.”

Downstairs, their voices became quieter.

By the time I got the baby settled and finally made it downstairs, my mother-in-law had already left.

Caleb was standing in the kitchen drinking water.

“What was that about?”

He lowered the glass.

“What?”

“Your mother.”

“Nothing.”

“She said she was finished covering for you.”

“She was upset.”

“About what?”

“The daycare situation.”

I stared at him.

“She also said, ‘You told me it was over.’ What was over?”

He opened the refrigerator.

“This argument.”

“That makes absolutely no sense.”

“Jess, I’m tired.”

“So am I.”

He closed the refrigerator harder than necessary.

“Can we please not do this right now?”

I watched him for several seconds.

Then I walked away.

But now I knew something important.

The conversation I overheard after my nap had not only been about daycare.

There was something else.

Something Caleb believed I could never find out.

For the next several days, his mother’s words replayed in my head.

You told me it was over.

I’m done covering for you.

And once I started paying attention, I noticed things.

Caleb took his phone into the shower.

He left it facedown whenever it was on the table.

Certain calls made him step outside.

Maybe sleep deprivation was making me paranoid.

That was what I told myself.

Then one night, after finally getting the baby asleep, I went downstairs for water.

The house was quiet.

Caleb wasn’t in the living room.

Then I heard his voice coming from the laundry room.

I almost kept walking.

But something about his tone made me stop.

His voice was soft.

Affectionate.

Honestly, I couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken to me that gently.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I know.”

I froze.

A moment later, he laughed quietly.

“Tomorrow. Same time.”

My heart started hammering.

I walked straight to the laundry room and pushed open the door.

Caleb spun around.

The instant he saw me, he ended the call.

I stared at his phone.

“Who the hell was that?”

He didn’t answer.

That scared me more than a quick lie would have.

“Who were you talking to?”

“Jess, you’re going to wake the baby.”

I stepped inside and nearly closed the door behind me.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Use our daughter every time you don’t want to answer me.”

His jaw tightened.

“It was nobody.”

“You call nobody ‘sweetheart’?”

“I didn’t call her that.”

Her.

The word hung between us.

He realized what he had said at the same moment I did.

I stared at him.

“Her?”

Caleb closed his eyes.

“Give me your phone.”

“No.”

“Then tell me who she is.”

“It’s complicated.”

I laughed bitterly.

“That’s what you’ve got?”

“Jess, please.”

“Your mother said you told her it was over.”

His head snapped toward me.

“She said she’s done covering for you. So either you explain what’s happening, or I’m calling her.”

“Don’t.”

“Why?”

“Because she’ll make everything worse.”

My stomach dropped.

“You mean she’ll tell me the truth.”

For the first time, Caleb looked genuinely afraid.

He leaned against the washing machine.

“Her name is Mara.”

I had never heard that name before.

“Who is she?”

“Someone from work.”

I suddenly felt sick.

“Are you having an affair?”

He didn’t answer.

“Caleb.”

Finally, he said:

“It started before the baby was born.”

My legs weakened.

I grabbed the back of a chair.

“How long before?”

“A few months.”

“A few months?”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen.”