I came home smiling, hoping to surprise my parents. But when I opened the door, I found them lying motionless on the floor. Doctors later said something harmful had been put in their food. One week later, my husband discovered something that made my entire body go cold.

Then my sister Kara texted me Tuesday afternoon.

Can you stop by Mom and Dad’s place and grab the mail? We’re out for a few days. Basement door still sticks.

It was a simple favor, but guilt hit me immediately. One quick stop. One chance not to be the daughter who was always too busy.

After work, I bought their favorite things: grapes, sourdough bread, and the expensive butter my dad always claimed tasted the same as the cheap kind. By the time I reached their street, the evening had turned soft and gray-blue.

Everything looked normal.

But their house felt wrong before I even parked.

The porch was too quiet. No television sound. No kitchen light. No voice from my mother calling, “Use your key, honey.”

I rang the bell.