It always starts with something small. Two days ago, it was the “wrong” spot for the potted flowers. Yesterday, it was the sound of him chewing too loudly. Last night, it was playing with their toddler a little too rough. This morning, he didn’t arrange the pillows on the bed correctly. This time, Mark was just loading the dishwasher. He had a rhythm going, plates stacked, cups aligned, everything moving along just fine, until Sarah walked in. She paused. She looked. She sigh