You can be timing yourself making that breakfast, to prove a point to your daughter, when your wife tells you she can’t do “this” anymore.
The toast pops out of the toaster when you ask her what she just said. She says that you heard her correctly. She’s tired of her marriage to you, tired of marriage in general, and that two people sometimes just grow in different directions. It’s harmful to pretend otherwise.
The microwave beeps, telling you that the bacon’s done. You don’t hear it, though, because now you’re asking your wife — who’ll apparently be your ex-wife in the near future — if she’s considered what this revelation might do to the daughter you both share. She tells you that it’ll be better for her in the long run if her parents are honest with her now. You ask how honest it is if this is the first you’re hearing about it.
The eggs start burning, forgotten, when you ask if there’s anything she’s not telling you. If there’s anyone she’s not telling you about. If there’s a reason this is happening so suddenly.
The way she hesitates tells you everything you need to know.
You hear your daughter coming downstairs into a new world that came into being five minutes ago.