My children came down the stairs before I could respond, washed their hands, and then sat around the table, ready to serve themselves cereal. I couldn't face them; if they saw everything Ivo had said, I had no justification.
But they behaved as usual, chatting among themselves as always. I was just there, doing nothing and saying nothing, until Ivo handed me a cup of coffee.
—Let's have breakfast, come on. Then you can get ready to go to therapy.
—No —I snapped tersely, refusing to give in; it was all too overwhelming.
He sat down with the kids after serving himself breakfast, seeming like the perfect father, attentively listening and chatting with them, something he never did. I took the cup and went to my room, thinking about how I should end this weariness. My phone was vibrating on
