I remember, all too vividly, the day that my parents told us about my dad’s affair. I knew that something wasn’t right, because the night before, the sounds of my mother’s sobbing could be heard through the walls. It kept me awake all night, pondering the meaning behind those agonized, yet muffled sounds of a woman’s heart being broken. My mother never cried, so I knew that something was seriously wrong. The next morning, my parents sat my sister and I down in the living room. I do not remember much about the details of what they said, but I do remember …read more