My anger faltered slightly, confusion taking its place.
“The second time I came, I asked where their parents were. That’s when Jake told me what’s going on.”
His gaze softened as he looked toward the kitchen. “They live here with their mom. No dad. She works 18-hour shifts at the hospital just to keep food on the table. By the time she gets home, she barely sees them. They’re left alone most nights.”
A lump formed in my throat. But I still didn’t understand.
“So… what have you been doing?” I asked, my voice smaller now.
Caleb sighed. “I just… I couldn’t walk away. Our kids just left for college, Emily. The house feels so empty. And then I saw these little ones, sitting here night after night, with no one. I started staying a little longer after deliveries. Bringing them extra food. Just… keeping them company.”
He hesitated, then admitted: “I know I should have told you. But I was afraid you’d be upset. That you’d think I was wasting time when I should be working more.”
My chest tightened.
I had spent weeks tormenting myself, imagining the worst. But all along, he had just been giving a few lonely kids the warmth of a father figure.
“Caleb, you know me better than that,” I whispered.
“I do,” he admitted. “I guess I was ashamed. It felt selfish spending time here when we have our own problems. But these kids, Em…” His voice softened. “They needed someone.”
Tears burned my eyes. I felt like a fool.
“I’m so sorry, Caleb,” I whispered, shaking my head. “I thought…”
“I can guess what you thought,” he said, moving to sit beside me. He gently took my hands. “And I understand why. I should have told you from the start.”
I wiped my tears, glancing toward the kitchen, where I could hear the children’s voices.
“Can I stay?” I asked. “Can I… help?”
His face softened. He smiled. “I’d like that.”
We sat with the kids that night, talking, laughing, and sharing stories. Jake was guarded at first, watching me with cautious eyes. But as the evening wore on, he began to open up.
“Mom tries,” he told me as the little ones colored at the coffee table. “But she’s all we’ve got since Dad left. Someone has to make money.”
“It must be hard for you,” I said, “having to keep up with school and take care of your siblings.”
He shrugged, but I could see the weight of responsibility in his young eyes. “Somebody has to do it.”
When their mother finally came home around 11 p.m., exhaustion written all over her face, she tensed at the sight of strangers in her home.
“Who are you?” she asked, alarm clear in her voice as she moved protectively toward her children.
But when Caleb and I explained everything, her shoulders sagged, and her eyes welled up.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I didn’t think anyone cared.”
I reached for her hand. “You’re doing your best. No one should have to do it alone. So, if you don’t mind, we’ll be back tomorrow to help out.”
She nodded, blinking back tears, then looked at her children — safe, happy, full.
And I looked at Caleb, the man I almost doubted, the man with the kindest heart I had ever known.
On the drive home, the silence between us felt different. Lighter.
“I was so sure,” I admitted, watching the streetlights flash by. “I was so sure you were having an affair.”
He reached across the console and took my hand.
“Never,” he said firmly. “Not in a million years.”
“I should have trusted you,” I said.
“And I should have been honest with you,” he replied. “We both messed up a little.”
We pulled into our driveway, our house dark and quiet. Caleb was right. Our place had been too quiet since the kids left for college.
“Do you think,” I started slowly, “that we could have them over sometimes?”
Caleb smiled, leaning over to kiss my cheek. “I was hoping you’d say that. Let’s ask when we go back tomorrow.”
This wasn’t the ending I had feared. Instead, it was the beginning of something even more beautiful.