"I came home after five days away and found my wife cooking with our feverish toddler in her arms, while my mother and sister sat beside her scrolling on their phones."

CHAPTER 1

I came home after five days away and found my wife cooking with our feverish toddler in her arms, while my mother and sister sat beside her scrolling on their phones.

For a second, I thought my mind was just tired from travel.

My suitcase was still in my hand. Rain dripped from my jacket onto the entryway floor. The house smelled like chicken soup, dirty dishes, and the sour heat of a child who had been sick too long.

Lauren stood at the stove in an oversized gray shirt and sweatpants, her messy hair stuck to her temples. With one arm, she held our two-year-old son, Noah, against her chest. With the other, she stirred a pot of soup.

Noah’s cheeks were flushed. His eyes were half closed. His small hand clutched the collar of her shirt like he was afraid she might disappear.

At the kitchen island, my mother, Patricia, sat with her phone propped against a coffee mug.

My sister, Melissa, had earbuds in and one foot hooked around the barstool, scrolling like she was waiting for a bus.

Neither of them was holding Noah.

Neither was washing dishes.

Neither had even looked up when I walked in.

My grip tightened around the suitcase handle.

“How long has he been sick?” I asked.

Lauren turned so fast the spoon almost fell from her hand.

The relief on her face disappeared almost immediately, like she did not trust herself to feel it yet.

“Since Tuesday night,” she whispered.

Tuesday.

It was Saturday.

I looked at Noah again. His little blanket was damp with sweat. A thermometer lay on the counter beside an open medicine bottle, a half-empty water cup, and his blue stuffed elephant.

I slowly turned toward my mother and sister.

“And you both sat here?”

Melissa pulled out one earbud.

Patricia finally looked up.