show of asking for permission when the outcome had already been decided.
His concern felt performative–like a neighbor casually asking after dinner, “Have you eaten?” The question didn’t
matter, and neither did the answer.
Sometimes, Sydney thought that kind of superficial care was part of why their marriage lasted as long as three years.
Caleb would say things like, “Remember to take magnesium during your period.”
If she got caught in the rain, he’d say, “Take a hot shower.”
If she tripped, he’d tell her, “Be careful next time.”
But he never prepared the dissolvable magnesium tablet for her. Never brought an umbrella. Never offered to take her to
the hospital. His kindness never moved beyond words.
As expected, he agreed and reminded her, “Come home early.”
Sydney nodded. “Okay.”
Whether she actually came home or not wasn’t something he’d bother to consider.
Caleb and Penelope walked toward the gate.
Halfway there, Penelope suddenly slapped her forehead. “Cal, you go ahead. I think I left my phone in the car. I’ll go
grab it.”
“Okay,” he said, frowning slightly.
Sydney had never been forgetful. Despite her age, she was always composed and well–organized–more mature than
most. Caleb had never had to worry about her.
Just as Sydney stepped out of the compound, her phone rang. Tiffany was on her way to pick her up.
She had barely hung up when a voice called out, “Sydney!”
Penelope approached with a smug smile. “Do you know why Cal came today?”
8:40 AM Sun 24 Aug

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