“JUST STAND UP, STOP FAKING IT…!”

My husband, Ethan, spat the words as if he were reprimanding a misbehaving pet, not speaking to his wife. I was sprawled on my back in the driveway, my cheek against the icy concrete, one arm bent painfully beneath my ribs. Above me, the sky over our quiet Ohio cul-de-sac looked offensively ordinary—clear, blue, …