My five-year-old daughter always bathed with my husband. They would stay in there for more than an hour every night. When I finally asked her what ..

For a while, I was.

Then I started noticing the clock.

Not ten minutes. Not fifteen.

An hour. Sometimes more.

Every time I knocked on the door, Mark answered in the same calm voice.

“We’re almost done.” But when they came out, Sophie never seemed relaxed.
She looked exhausted.
She wrapped herself tightly in the towel and kept her gaze fixed on the floor. Once, when I tried to dry her hair, she pulled away so quickly that my stomach sank.