I had been gone for five days, but nothing prepared me for what I saw when I opened the door: my wife juggling dinner and our sick toddler, while my mother and sister sat nearby on their phones.

Noah’s fever scared Ethan far more than the argument had.

Anger was easy.

Seeing his child limp with exhaustion and burning hot against his chest was not.

“How high?” he asked quietly.

Lauren wiped her eyes quickly.

“An hour ago it was 102.7. The pediatric nurse said to monitor him unless it hits 104 or his breathing worsens.”

Ethan nodded immediately.

“Okay. Sit down.”

“I still need to finish the soup.”

“No, you don’t.”

He gently guided her toward a chair.

“Sit.”

She hesitated like resting had become something she no longer allowed herself to do.

That hurt him more deeply than he expected.