And I understood, watching him fold his shirts, that the question was not unanswerable to him at all.

He had an answer.

He simply did not consider my sleeplessness, or my depletion, or the sheer physical impossibility of one exhausted person safely caring for two infants around the clock for four days, to be his problem.

His break was the priority.

My survival of it was, apparently, a logistical detail I could work out on my own.

Chapter 4 — Act Like a Mother

Then he shrugged, and he said the sentence that ended one version of our marriage and began another.