In the morning, I knew I couldn’t live on hope anymore.

I needed the truth.

The next night, when Mark took Sophie upstairs for her usual bath, I waited until I heard the water running.

Then I walked barefoot down the hallway, my heart pounding so hard my chest ached.

The bathroom door was ajar, just enough.

I peeked inside.

And in a second, the man I had married was gone. Mark was crouched by the bathtub with a kitchen timer in one hand and a paper cup in the other, talking to Sophie in a voice so calm it chilled me to the bone.

At that moment, I grabbed my phone and called the police.