On the day of the hearing, he glanced at me for barely two seconds before looking away, as if I were already erased from his life.
Harper was sitting next to me. Her feet didn’t reach the floor. Her fingers were neatly interlaced, far too composed for a child. I hadn’t wanted her to witness this scene. But Caleb insisted. According to him, it would help the judge “understand reality.”
The reality was a little girl forced to watch her parents tear each other apart.
Caleb’s lawyer spoke softly. She talked about stability, structure, balance. She mentioned my supposed mood swings, the conflicts I had allegedly exposed our daughter to.
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