Ever since the birth of your less-than-perfect son, Stephan has been very different. He’s talked less, smiled less, and is home less. It’s hard not to feel hurt. And very, very alone.

Ezra, your son, spent his first year in and out of the hospital. With his first birthday coming up, you want to do something special, something great to celebrate making it twelve long months longer than the doctors expected.

Everyone was in such a good mood, even Stephan, it seemed.

After the party, you busied yourself cleaning the house. You were just starting the laundry when something caught your eye. Thrown deep into the bottom of the hamper was Stephan’s favorite button down shirt, red lip stick stains blotched all over the collar. It reeked of cheap perfume. Behind you, you heard the door open. Stephan walked in, sitting on the bed and undoing his tie.