Once a Doormat Now Untouchable (Caleb and Sydney) novel Chapter 246

**When The Ocean Learned My Name and Whispered It Back to You**
**by Aurelia**
**Novel 246**

**Chapter 246**

Caleb’s fingers rested on the back of Sydney’s hand, but they trembled ever so slightly, betraying the storm brewing within him. The weight of the moment pressed down like a heavy fog, thick and suffocating.

After an excruciating silence, he let out a short, bitter laugh, as if he had just been served a cruel joke that twisted in his gut. “I know you’re still furious with me,” he said, his voice strained. “You won’t forgive me immediately, and that’s fine. But please, don’t say things like that just to hurt me.”

The thought of divorce had never crossed his mind—not now, not ever. It was unfathomable to him that she could claim the divorce papers were already filed.

He had always believed in patience, in the power of time to heal wounds. He was ready to coax her back to him, to wait for the flames of her anger to subside. Words like those, he thought, were not to be taken seriously.

Yet, as he glanced at her solemn face, a gnawing unease spread through his chest, relentless like an incoming tide.

Sydney, however, was not surprised by his reaction. A strange calm enveloped her; there was no urgency in her movements. She slipped her hand from beneath his, her voice light and airy, as if his trembling fingers were inconsequential. “You can ask your mother. She was the one who filed it. Your copy of the divorce certificate is still with her.”

“Impossible!” Caleb’s denial erupted from him, fierce and unrestrained. He shot to his feet, his tall frame casting a long shadow over her, a physical manifestation of his rising anger.

Sydney remained unflinching, her tone steady and unwavering. “I told you. You can ask your mother.”

She was always so composed, a rock in the midst of his tempest.

Caleb struggled to contain the irritation bubbling just beneath the surface, threatening to snap his already tenuous hold on control. He locked his gaze onto her, searching for any sign of emotion, any crack in her facade. But there was nothing—no flicker of vulnerability, no hint of despair.

Once, he had taken solace in her steadiness. It had made him feel powerful, knowing she was obedient, gentle, and rational. She never cried or created scenes; she was always dignified, always in control.

But now, as he searched her face, he realized how misguided that satisfaction had been. Where was the little girl who had once clung to his hand outside the hospital, tears streaming down her cheeks, unwilling to let go?

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