After an exhausting day at work, I arrived home to discover my wife of thirty-eight years standing outside the locked gate of our own house, holding a small paper bag of groceries. Tears filled her eyes as she looked at me and whispered

keypad.

Entered the code we’d used for years.

Access denied.

I tried again.

Access denied.

Behind me, Linda wiped her eyes.

“He said I shouldn’t cause a scene.”

I turned toward her.

Then I gently lifted the grocery bag from her hand.

“Come on, sweetheart.”

She hesitated.

“Tom, please don’t start an argument.”

I shook my head.

“I’m not interested in fighting with him.”

I looked back at the house.

“But he needs to remember something.”

We walked toward the side entrance beside the garage.

Ethan had overlooked one important