I came home from work three hours early and heard one of the twins screaming before I even opened the front door.

Grant slept on the couch that night. Or rather, he stayed in the living room while I stayed awake in our bedroom, listening to the quiet breathing of the twins in their cribs beside my bed.

I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Hallie standing in the kitchen, holding a bottle with trembling hands, terrified of getting her father into trouble.

At 2:00 AM, I got out of bed, walked down the hall to Hallie’s room, and quietly opened the door. She was fast asleep, her stuffed bunny tucked under her arm. On her desk sat her school backpack.

I walked over, picked up her school folder, and opened it. Inside were her attendance records for the semester—a routine weekly printout the school sent home for parents to sign.

I stared at the paper under the dim nightlight.

October 4th: Dismissed at 12:15 PM (Parent Pickup). October 18th: Dismissed at 11:45 AM (Parent Pickup). November 2nd: Absent (Parent Excuse). November 15th: Dismissed at 12:00 PM (Parent Pickup).

Four times in two months.

Four times Grant had pulled our ten-year-old daughter out of school on days I was working late or traveling for my freight logistics management job.

My stomach churned. I took a picture of the attendance sheet with my phone, set the folder back down, and crept back into the hallway.

The next morning at 7:00 AM, the atmosphere in the kitchen was thick enough to cut with a knife. Grant was pouring himself coffee, wearing his work suit, pretending like nothing had happened. Hallie sat at the table, picking at her toast, completely silent.

"Hallie, sweetie, go get your shoes on," I said gently. "I'm driving you to school today."

She looked up, surprised. "You are? But you usually leave at seven-thirty."

"I took the morning off," I said, casting a sharp glare at Grant. "Go on."

Once Hallie ran upstairs, Grant turned to me, setting his mug down. "Look, Sarah, about yesterday—"

"I saw her attendance record, Grant," I said quietly, holding up my phone with the picture of the printout.

Grant went pale.

"Four times," I said. "Four times in the last eight weeks. Where were you on those days?"

Grant swallowed hard, looking away. "I... I had errands. Things for work."

"Were you golfing?"

"Sarah—"

"Were you golfing, Grant?!"

"A couple of times, okay?!" Grant snapped, slamming his hand on the counter. "I’ve been under a huge amount of pressure at work! You're making six figures, you're climbing the ladder at your firm, and I'm stuck doing freelance consulting from home while taking care of two infants! I needed a break!"

"Then you hire a nanny!" I screamed, tears finally spilling over my lashes. "We have the money! I offered to hire a full-time babysitter three months ago, and YOU insisted you could handle it! You said you wanted to be a hands-on dad!"

"Because hiring a stranger costs thousands a month!" Grant defended himself, his face red. "I thought Hallie helping out for an hour here and there wasn't a big deal! She’s part of this family!"

"She is ten years old!" I yelled. "She is a child! It is not her job to raise your babies so you can play golf and drink beer with your buddies!"

The front entry door creaked. Hallie stood on the bottom step, holding her backpack, staring at us with wide, tear-filled eyes.