My Daughter Took My Hand After School and Said, “Mom, Divorce Dad — He Doesn’t Love Us.” That Night, Over One Chicken Leg, I Finally Listened

“She’s little.” He waved a hand.

“She needs to learn to share with her older brother.”

Chloe pressed back into my arms, trembling.

Zachary sighed, heavy with impatience.

“Stop making a production out of nothing.

Have Chloe apologize to Tristan.

If she behaves the next few days, I’ll add you back to the chat.”

There is a particular arithmetic to favoritism, and I had spent five years learning it the way you learn a language you never wanted to speak.