My husband insisted that he would bathe our little girl himself every night. But one evening, when I secretly followed him, the ground removed from under my feet.

his hand, carry her to the bathroom and lock the door. He was unscrewing the water so I couldn’t hear what was going on inside. When I tried to get in, he was standing in the doorway.

“I’ll take care of it. Go get some rest.”

One evening, I saw him hiding a small metal box in his pocket. I asked what it was. His expression immediately changed.

“It’s something about work.”

“Then why are you taking it to the  bathroom?”

For a few seconds, he looked at me in silence.

“I already told you it wasn’t important.”

I couldn’t sleep that night.

Emma’s frightened face kept coming back in my mind. I remembered how tightly she was holding on to me, begging me not to let her dad take her bath.

The next morning, I noticed a red mark on