02/25/2026
My husband cooked dinner, and right after my son and I ate, we collapsed.
Pretending to be unconscious, I heard him on the phone saying, “It’s done… they’ll both be gone soon.”
After Ethan left the room, I whispered to my son, “Don’t move yet…”
That evening felt almost normal. My husband cooked dinner — humming, setting the table carefully, even pouring Caleb a glass of apple juice with a forced smile.
“Chef Ethan,” Caleb teased.
I smiled too, but something felt off. Ethan hadn’t been kinder lately — just… cautious.
We ate quietly. He barely touched his food, checking his phone over and over.
Then my body turned heavy. The room spun.
“Mom… I’m sleepy,” Caleb mumbled.
Panic broke through the haze. As my knees gave out, I made one quick choice — I pretended to pass out but stayed awake.
I lay still beside Caleb, listening.
Ethan walked over and nudged me with his shoe. “Good,” he whispered.
Then he called someone.
“It’s done,” he said softly. “They ate it. They’ll both be gone soon.”
My heart froze.
A woman’s voice asked, “Are you sure?”
“I followed the dose,” he replied. “It’ll look like an accident. I’ll call 911 when it’s too late.”
“Finally,” she said. “We can stop hiding.”
“I’ll be free,” Ethan whispered.
I heard drawers open, a bag dragged across the floor. He paused near us one last time.
“Goodbye.”
The front door shut. Silence filled the house.
I forced myself to breathe slowly and whispered, “Caleb… don’t move yet.”
A moment later, his fingers squeezed mine.
He was awake...To be continued in Comment 👇
