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

followed the same hidden ritual.

And every night, he looked destroyed.

He did not appear relaxed or sneaky in the way I imagined someone having an affair might behave. He looked hollow and folded inward, as though standing upright would cause the walls around him to collapse.

Still, when I finally saw the contents clearly, my stomach dropped.