While my husband was in the shower, his phone lit up on the counter. My son looked at it and said, “Mom… why is Dad texting Aunt Lisa, ‘I miss last night’?” I thought it had to be a mistake—until I read it. When I asked Lisa, she broke down and said one word: “Sorry.”
The phone buzzed twice against the kitchen counter, sharp and restless, cutting through the ordinary rhythm of a Tuesday evening in Columbus, Ohio. Emily Parker stood at the sink rinsing dishes while upstairs, her...