My Husband Cooked Dinner, and Minutes After My Son and I Ate, We Both Collapsed. I Played Dead on the Floor and Heard Him on the Phone: “Soon They’ll Both Be Gone”

“Okay.

Back door.

Hold my wrist and don’t let go.”

We crossed the kitchen a step at a time, Lucas leaning his weight into me, his knees threatening to buckle.

I kept one hand flat on the counter for balance and reached the back door and turned the deadbolt, slow, easing it back until the metal latch clicked open under my fingers.

And in that exact second, bright headlights swept across the kitchen blinds from the driveway and washed the whole room white.