“Explain to us what the correct version of this looks like.

I would genuinely love to hear it.”

He started to talk — about being overwhelmed, about the pressures of new fatherhood, about communication problems in our marriage, about stress.

A river of soft, blameless words, none of which were I have been unfaithful to you. And his father, to his enormous credit, did not argue with a single one of them.

Arthur simply reached into a worn leather briefcase, drew out a thick manila folder, and dropped it onto the coffee table between us with a weight that stopped Marcus mid-sentence.

“Open it,” Arthur said.