Tricia took a slow, hesitant step forward, her hands nervously rubbing the back of her neck as if trying to ease the weight of guilt pressing down on her. Her eyes, wide and unsure, followed Donald's every movement as he turned away and made for the kitchen exit. But before he could disappear, she reached out, almost desperately, and clasped his hand, stopping him in his tracks.

"I want to say something, please hear me out," she said softly, her voice almost cracking.

Donald pulled his hand ...