The little boy was not an account balance.

He was not a trick.

He was a person who might need help from a man whose wife did not even know he existed.

Another knock came, more hesitant this time.

I gathered everything, washed my hands, and splashed a little water against my wrists.

In the mirror, my face looked pale beneath the makeup.

I had expected discovery to divide my life cleanly into before and after.

Instead, every new detail made the question less clean.