When I came home, my neighbor said, “Your house is so loud during the day!” “That’s impossible,” I replied. “No one should be home.” “I heard someone shouting,” she insisted. The next day, I pretended to leave for work and hid under the bed. Then I heard my daughter’s familiar voice—crying.

My name is Rachel. I work as a project manager at a fast-paced IT company in Chicago. Every morning, I leave my suburban home by seven and don’t get back until after eight at night; sometimes, it’s past nine. I check emails on the commuter train, and by the time I arrive at the office, my head is already full of work.

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