I Came Home to a Destroyed Bathroom Door — When I Found Out What Happened, I Filed for Divorce

She glanced at her father and then back down at her shoes.

“Nothing. I’m tired. Can I go to bed now?”

“Sure, sweetie,” I said softly, my gaze still fixed on John. “We’ll talk about this in the morning my angel.”

After she ran upstairs, I turned back to my husband, waiting for a real answer. But he just shrugged and went to the living room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Something wasn’t right.

I knew John was hiding something, but I was too exhausted from the drive and the trip to press him. I needed a night to rest and figure out how to handle whatever this was. I figured I’d tackle it with him privately the next day.