My husband cooked dinner—and minutes later, my son and I collapsed on the floor

I smiled back, but a quiet warning bell kept ringing in my chest. For weeks, Marcus had been acting… off. Extra polite one moment, coldly distant the next. Always checking his phone like he was waiting for some secret cue.

We sat down to eat—chicken and rice. Simple. Familiar. Comforting.

Halfway through, my tongue started to feel thick. My arms and legs turned heavy. My thoughts blurred like fog rolling in.

Noah rubbed his eyes. “Mom… I’m so sleepy.”

The room tilted at the edges. When I tried to stand, my knees buckled. I went down onto the living room rug. A second later, Noah’s small body slumped beside me.

Fear hit like lightning—but instinct cut straight through the haze.

So I went limp.

Completely limp.

Continue reading…