I begged them to call for help.

Sigrid took my phone from the counter and moved it out of my reach.

Then, while I lay there, she picked up a cloth and began, calmly, to wipe down the counter.

Lars righted the pot.

Neither of them called anyone.

Only when my screaming turned to shaking, when even they could see that something had shifted and that a dead wife would be far harder to explain than an injured one, did Lars finally dial.