“Get some rest, and maybe some of James’ personal belongings. Like pajamas and toiletries. I can’t tell you how long he’s going to be in a coma.” So, I went back home — re-energized by the fact that I had a purpose. I needed to get James’ belongings together, and then get back to the hospital. The first thing I did was go to the bathroom and look for any evidence. I searched for a puddle of water, something that James might have slipped on. I went on my hands and knees, dropping my handbag onto the bathroom mat. But there was nothing. In the chaos of gathering James’ essentials — I remembered that I needed to phone my mother-in-law and let her know about the situation. Hurrying back to the bathroom, I went to get my phone from my handbag. But as I bent to retrieve it, a peculiar detail caught my eye, something that I had missed in my first search of the bathroom. Tucked under the bathtub was an envelope, sealed, with my name written across it in the unmistakable handwriting of my sister, Amelia, who had inexplicably cut ties and moved to another city a year ago. With my hands shaking, I opened the letter. With each word, the foundation of my marriage crumbled. Amelia confessed to having an affair with James. She wrote of her unbearable guilt. I cannot look myself in the mirror, Sarah.