A hurried scribble on a delivery bag sent me racing to my backyard, where I made a disturbing discovery. The cryptic note from our regular delivery guy, Ravi, might have saved my family from something terrifying, but it was clear the danger was still looming.
As a single mom, I often rely on food delivery when I’m too exhausted to cook for my kids. Over time, Ravi, our usual delivery guy, became more than just a familiar face. He was always friendly, exchanging high-fives with my children, Kai and Isla, before heading off. But last Tuesday, something felt different.
Ravi arrived looking unusually tense. He handed me our food without a word and hurried back to his car, leaving me puzzled.
