My name is Margaret. I’m 63 years old, and my husband, Robert, is 68. We’ve been married for 42 years, and I always believed I knew him better than anyone else in the world.
But last summer, something happened that left me unable to sleep for several nights.
It all started with our five-year-old grandson, Ben.
After her divorce, my daughter Emily had to work long hours, so Ben spent most of the week at our house.
At first, everything was wonderful.
Robert played with his grandson, took him on walks, and made little toys for him.
But one day, I noticed that something strange was happening between them.
Every day, once my husband was certain I was busy in the kitchen, he would take Ben into a small room at the back of the house.
They would close the door.
Sometimes, I could hear Robert’s stern voice coming from inside.