My husband, David, and I had been married for 14 years.
By all ordinary measures, we had a good life.
Not perfect, because no marriage was, but steady in the ways that mattered.
We had two sons, Noah and Caleb, a mortgage we complained about every month, a kitchen drawer full of batteries that never fit anything, and the quiet rhythm of a family that knew where it belonged.
David was not a dramatic man.
He did not disappear for hours without explanation.