I checked my phone. Nothing.
I sent a casual message so I wouldn’t scare myself: Are you driving?
No reply.
I called. It rang until voicemail.
That was when the unease settled in—heavy, cold. Ethan wasn’t the kind of man who forgot to text. If he was delayed, he always let me know.
I tried to be rational. A long line. A dead battery. Something simple.
The kids finished dinner and asked if Daddy got lost. I laughed too quickly and sent them to brush their teeth.
When the house finally went quiet, I sat alone at the table, staring at the plate I’d saved for him.
By then, it was too late.
