I sat there, shocked and horrified. This was not the man I married. I couldn’t understand how he could treat our daughter, who he used to love so dearly, with such coldness. I realized that this wasn’t just a “phase” for our daughter. This was a trauma she was enduring every weekend while I was away.

The footage continued, showing him returning after a few minutes. He picked her up abruptly, his grip firm on her tiny arm, and carried her to bed, where she lay silently, eyes wet with tears, as he tucked her in without a word. He left the room, and she lay there, staring at the door, waiting for something—a sign, an apology, a hug—that never came.