At exactly 11:47 on Christmas Eve, my husband accidentally sent me a photograph of himself in a hotel bed with his mistress while I was home alone caring for our two feverish babies.

resembled a Christmas postcard.

Inside, my marriage ended silently.

Noah whimpered against me.

I looked down and remembered why Cole had left six hours earlier.

Both babies had been feverish all afternoon.

Lily’s temperature rose first, then Noah’s.

I’d called the pediatrician twice, checked temperatures every twenty minutes, offered fluids, changed cool cloths, and watched the clock anxiously.

At 5:45, Cole emerged from our bedroom wearing a white shirt and black tie.

I stood in the hallway with Lily crying against my chest.

“Where are you going?”

He barely