FOR THREE MONTHS, I SMELLED SOMETHING ROTTING BESIDE MY HUSBAND—BUT HE SWORE NOTHING WAS THERE

something rotting beneath us, hidden just out of sight.

I began to dread going to bed. To dread the silence. To dread the moment the lights went out and that smell returned.

Then one evening, Daniel told me he had to leave for a business trip.

“Three days,” he said, dragging his suitcase toward the door.

He kissed my forehead, as he always did. “Make sure continue reading …