I clenched my jaw and pressed harder on the accelerator. I could not blame them. I could not even blame my former wife, Alessandra, who had walked out eight months earlier with hollow eyes and trembling hands, seeking refuge with her brother in Zurich.

“I am breaking, Marco,” she had whispered that morning, her voice frayed by exhaustion. “Three toddlers at once. The crying never stops. When they scream together I feel like my mind is tearing itself apart. I love them, I swear I do, but I am disappearing. I cannot be the mother they need. I cannot be your partner anymore.”