“Your mother is gone. Tears won’t bring her back—so wipe your face, make dinner, and don’t look like a grieving child when my guests arrive.” That was what my husband said.

Her name was Jessica. She was a colleague Mark often mentioned at home for her achievements, but I could sense something more in the way Mark looked at her. Jessica entered with a very confident air, as if she owned the place. She greeted Mark with familiarity, even touching his arm in a way that was too close while smiling cheerfully. Mark seemed delighted by Jessica’s arrival. His face lit up in a way I hadn’t seen when he looked at me. Jessica examined me from head to toe with a look of dismissive evaluation. There was no kind smile on her lips when she looked at me, only a faint, cunning smirk.