Children often notice what adults overlook.
At my father-in-law’s funeral, my four-year-old son, Ben, made an innocent comment that exposed a truth I never saw coming.
While I was away for a few minutes, Ben had crawled under the tables, treating the solemn reception like a playground.

When I found him, he quietly told me he’d seen his dad touch another woman’s leg — a woman I had always trusted.
Our days were filled with familiar routines — pancakes on weekends, afternoon walks, movie nights. To everyone else, Arthur seemed like the ideal husband: hard-working, devoted, dependable. His father’s death had already left us reeling, and the last thing I expected was to find myself questioning our marriage in the middle of such a loss.
