Chapter 6 - The Unspoken Distance
The night that followed was the quietest night of my life.
Caleb didn't sleep in our bedroom. He took a blanket and slept downstairs on the living room sofa.
I stayed upstairs in the nursery, sitting in the wooden rocking chair with Sadie in my arms until the sun began to rise over the snowy trees outside.
Her crying had stopped after twenty minutes. She had fallen asleep against my chest, her little hand curled tightly around the collar of my sweater.
I looked down at her face in the pale gray morning light.
My heart was heavy with a profound, sickening guilt.
I had ruined a family dinner. I had screamed at my mother-in-law. I had humiliated Caleb’s sister. I had behaved like an unstable, hysterical woman.
Yet, underlying the guilt, there was something else.
For the first time in five months, the suffocating fog in my chest felt slightly lighter. I had spoken. I had drawn a line in the freezing soil, even if it meant destroying everything around me.
At seven in the morning, I heard Caleb coming up the stairs.
He pushed the nursery door open slowly.
He was wearing his work clothes—a dark blue button-down shirt and grey trousers—but his face looked exhausted, his eyes bloodshot and heavy.
He stood in the doorway, looking at me sitting in the rocking chair with Sadie.
"We need to talk," Caleb said quietly.
"I know," I replied.
I gently laid Sadie down in her crib, pulled her blanket over her shoulders, and walked out of the nursery, closing the door softly behind us.
We walked down into the kitchen.
The house still smelled of Marjorie’s pot roast from the night before. The tray of rolls I had set on the table was still sitting there, cold and hard.
Caleb made a pot of coffee in silence. He poured two mugs, set one in front of me at the island, and sat down on the opposite stool.
"My mother called me at six this morning," Caleb said, staring into his black coffee. "She was crying. She said she felt terrible. She said she had no idea she was hurting your feelings."
I lowered my eyes, staring at the steam rising from my mug. "I shouldn't have screamed at them, Caleb. I'm sorry for how I handled it. It was wrong."
Caleb let out a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "Then why did you do it, Clara? Why didn't you just talk to me? Why did you hold it in until you exploded on everyone?"
I looked up at him.
"Because every time I tried to hint at it, you didn't hear me," I said softly.
Caleb frowned. "Hint at what? That my family loved our baby? That they were excited she looked like me?"
"No, Caleb!" I said, forcing my voice to remain calm and steady. "Not that they loved her. But that they erased me!"
Caleb shook his head, looking exasperated. "Nobody erased you, Clara! That’s ridiculous! Everyone knows you given birth to her! Everyone knows you're her mother!"
"Do they?!" I pressed my hands flat against the kitchen counter. "Caleb, from the moment she was born in that hospital room, every single comment out of your family’s mouth was about how she was 100% a Warren. 'Dad won this one.' ' You were just the incubator.' 'Zero percent genetics.' 'A high-end rental property.'"
Caleb flinched slightly at the last phrase, his jaw tightening.
"They were just making stupid jokes, Clara," Caleb argued weakly. "You know how my sister is. She has a big mouth. She didn't mean anything by it."
"It doesn't matter if she meant it or not!" I sobbed, tears spilling over my lashes again. "It hurt! It hurt every single day! I spent nine months building her bones inside my body! I nearly bled to death in that hospital! I haven't slept a full night in five months! My body is ruined, my self-esteem is gone, and every time I look at my own child, I am reminded that nobody sees ME in her!"
Caleb stared at me.
For the first time in five months, he didn't offer a defense. He didn't offer a quick joke.
He looked at my face—really looked at it.
He saw the dark circles under my eyes. He saw how thin my wrists had become. He saw the genuine, agonizing despair etched into every line of my features.
"Clara..." Caleb whispered, his voice cracking. "Is that really how you've been feeling?"
"I feel like a stranger in my own home, Caleb," I whispered, burying my face in my hands. "I feel like I gave birth to your baby, and then I ceased to exist."
Caleb slowly stood up from his stool.
He walked around the kitchen island, pulled me up from my seat, and wrapped his arms tightly around my shoulders.
May you like
I collapsed against his chest, weeping quietly into his shirt, feeling his arms hold me with a fierce, protective strength I hadn't felt since the day Sadie was born.
"I'm sorry," Caleb murmured into my hair, his own tears soaking into my sweater. "I'm so sorry, Clara. I was so proud that she looked like me... I was so stupidly blind... I didn't see what it was doing to you. I swear to God, I didn't see it."
