I didn’t find out my husband was cheating the way people imagine. No lipstick stains. No late-night confessions. No dramatic slip-ups. It started with something smaller. Quieter. The kind of thing most people ignore. My six-year-old daughter, Sophie, sitting alone at the kitchen table doing homework she wasn’t supposed to be doing by herself. “Where’s Laura?” I asked her gently. Sophie shrugged. “She said she didn’t have time today.” That didn’t make sense. Laura was our nanny. That was her job—helping Sophie, keeping the house running, being the extra set of hands I needed when I went back to work....
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