That night, I made a choice. Peace in the household was no longer worth Martha’s dignity.

The next morning, I found Samuel in what used to be my office, now a nursery storage room.

“Your wife shoved your mother and called her dirty. Is that something we excuse?” I asked.

“She didn’t shove her,” he replied quickly. “Mom lost her balance. Everly was just keeping the baby safe from germs.”

The ease with which he dismissed it sickened me.

“This is our house, Samuel.”

“Of course,” he said, but his tone suggested otherwise. “We’re living here too, and we need to think about what’s best for everyone.”