He looked at Emma sitting on the rug with her stuffed bunny, then at Noah building a tower from plastic blocks.

“Okay.”

“That is not enough. I need you to actually listen.”

He sighed and locked his phone.

“I’m listening.”

“No snacks unless you ask me. Emma puts everything in her mouth, so watch her carefully. Noah may try to go upstairs. Keep the baby gate closed.”

“They’ll be fine.”

“Tyler.”

He sat up.

“I’ve got them, Amanda. Go.”

I should have taken them with me.

That thought followed me all the way to the store.

I rushed through the aisles and grabbed only what we needed—milk, pasta, tomatoes, chicken, and bread.

At checkout, the woman ahead of me had trouble with her card.

I looked at the time.

Thirty-four minutes.

I called Tyler.

No answer.

My stomach tightened.

As soon as the cashier finished, I paid, grabbed the bags, and hurried outside.

Forty minutes had passed when I pulled into our driveway.

The front door was wide open.

For a second, I froze.

Then I noticed Emma’s stuffed bunny on the floor near the doorway.

I abandoned the grocery bags on the porch and ran inside.

“Tyler?”

Cartoons played on the television.

The living room was empty.

“Noah? Emma?”

Nothing.

I searched behind the couch, then the kitchen and downstairs bathroom.

I ran upstairs calling their names.

Both bedrooms were empty.

Then I rushed back down and checked the yard.

No one.

My mind filled instantly with terrifying possibilities.

Had the children wandered outside?

Had someone entered the house?

Had Tyler simply left them alone?

I grabbed my phone to call 911.

Before I could dial, an unknown local number appeared.

I answered immediately.

“Hello?”

“Is this Amanda?”

“Yes.”

“This is Hillcrest Emergency Clinic. We have your children here. You need to come immediately.”

Everything around me seemed to tilt.

“What happened? Are they hurt?”

“Your daughter had a severe allergic reaction. She is stable, but the doctor needs to speak with you.”

I could barely breathe.

“How did they get there?”

“Your brother-in-law brought them.”

I was already running toward the car.

Hillcrest was only four blocks away.

I barely remember driving.

I left the car crooked in the parking lot and rushed inside.

A nurse led me into a treatment room.

Emma lay on a bed with an oxygen tube beneath her nose. Red patches covered her cheeks and neck, and one hand was secured to an IV board.

Noah sat nearby holding crackers.

Tyler stood against the wall.

His shirt was stained, his hair soaked with sweat.

I hurried to Emma.

“What happened?”

A doctor approached.

“I’m Dr. Patel. Your daughter experienced anaphylaxis, which is a severe allergic reaction. She developed hives, facial swelling, vomiting, and breathing difficulty.”

I stared at Emma’s swollen eyelids.

“Is she going to be okay?”

“She responded well to epinephrine. We have called an ambulance to transfer her to the hospital for observation because symptoms can sometimes return.”

My knees nearly gave out.

“What caused it?”

“We do not know yet. Your brother-in-law said she ate a bite of a cookie shortly before the reaction began.”

I turned toward Tyler.

“A cookie?”

He looked terrified.

“It was from my bag. I forgot they had nuts.”

“I told you not to give them any snacks.”

“I didn’t know she was allergic.”

“Neither do I. That’s why we are careful with any snacks we introduce to them.”

The doctor gently raised a hand.

“Food allergies can appear without a previously diagnosed reaction. Right now, the important thing is that he recognized something was seriously wrong.”

I looked at Tyler.

He swallowed hard.

“She started scratching her neck,” he said. “At first I thought she was tired. Then her face got red, and her lips looked bigger.”

“What did you do?”

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