My husband appeared on the baby monitor every night at 2 a.m. carrying a mysterious paper bag—when I finally watched him open it, I gasped

same routine. He checked the crib, sat on the floor, opened the bag, ate, drank, and wrote.

I searched further back.

He had been doing it every night for nearly a month.

Sometimes the food came from a burger restaurant, sometimes from the corner convenience store, and once from a fast-food place, judging by the grease spreading through the bag.

Every night continue reading …