After a week away on a business trip, I returned home at midnight, eager to see my family. I expected to be greeted with hugs or maybe sleepy smiles, but instead, I walked into a nightmare—my two sons, Tommy and Alex, were asleep on the cold hallway floor, tangled in blankets and covered in dirt.
My heart raced as I flicked on the light, unsure whether to scream or cry. Where was Mark? The house looked like it had been hit by a snack-fueled tornado—pizza boxes, soda cans, and melted ice cream everywhere. No sign of my husband. I crept through the mess toward our bedroom. Empty. Then I heard faint noises from the boys’ room and slowly opened the door, bracing myself for the worst…