I feel as if I am in an old movie—in a scene where tension exists because the only sound comes from the ticking of an old clock—only here there is nothing but silence that tocks through me. The glow coming from the digital clock on the nightstand reveals it is 2 A.M. When last I looked it was midnight. How did I manage to actually get a few hours of sleep? In the week since our blowout, scarcely a civil word has been uttered between Christopher and I that wasn’t in public, and we’ve each accumulated less than a night’s worth of rest.

This battle has to end.