My Son Showered Every Night at 3 A.M., but the One Time I Peeked Through the Bathroom Door, What I Saw Made Me Move Into a Retirement Home the Very Next Day
My breath caught in my throat. Through the narrow crack in the bathroom door, the steam curled around two silhouettes—fully clothed, water pounding like rain in a storm. Julian’s fist was wrapped in Clara’s hair, forcing her head back under the icy stream. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her teeth chattering, her hands trembling as…