Mark came home with takeout pizza and a bottle of red wine. He didn't ask about dinner. He just kissed my forehead and said, "Jenna told me. I'm sorry."

The front door clicked shut.

I scrolled my phone mindlessly. Instagram showed me a mom baking gluten-free unicorn cupcakes. Facebook reminded me of a memory from five years ago: "Sandra is feeling blessed!" with a photo of a perfect pumpkin patch outing.