He brought another woman into our daughter’s life behind my back.
Then after Ava died, he hid the truth while standing beside her tiny white casket pretending to grieve honestly.
When I came home that night, Mark sat waiting at the kitchen table looking smaller than I’d ever seen him.
“I never stopped loving Ava,” he whispered.
I stared at him for a very long time.
Then finally answered honestly.
“I think you loved being seen as a good father more than you loved paying attention.”
He broke down crying after that.
But I felt strangely calm.
Because for days I believed there was some impossible mystery surrounding Ava’s death.
In reality, it came down to something painfully ordinary.
Selfishness.
Distraction.
Lies.
