My husband kept making fun of me for not doing anything, and then he found my note after they took me to the emergency room.

It was Tuesday morning when everything fell apart.

I’d been feeling awful for a few days, but I never took it seriously. Most days I felt dizzy, nauseous, and completely exhausted. I assumed it was some kind of flu, maybe the flu. But somehow I managed, packing lunches, sweeping up crumbs, making sure the guys didn’t kill each other over the action figures.

I even managed to make banana pancakes this morning, hoping that maybe Tyler would finally smile.

When he came into the kitchen, half-conscious, I managed a cheerful, “Good morning, honey.” The boys responded in unison, “Good morning, Dad!”

Tyler didn’t answer. He looked straight past us, grabbed a piece of dry toast, and returned to the bedroom, mumbling something about an important meeting. I remembered that he’d been busy preparing for an important meeting and presentation at work that day. So he wasn’t just preparing for that, he was also physically changing into his work clothes.

I silently regretted thinking that the pancakes would help him, or that the boys’ enthusiasm would cheer him up. I realized I was wrong.

“Madison, where’s my white shirt?” he barked from the bedroom, his voice cutting through the hallway like a blade.

I dried my hands and went in. “I threw them in the washing machine with the whites.”

He turned to me, his eyes wide with disbelief. “What do you mean you just threw it in the washing machine? I asked you to wash it three days ago! You know it’s my lucky shirt! And I have this important meeting today. Can’t you even do one task?”

The beast emerged. It ran into the dining room, and I followed.

“I forgot, sorry. I’ve been feeling really bad lately.”

He didn’t hear me or chose not to hear me.

“What do you even do all day, Madison?! Sit around while I pay for this house? Seriously, Mads. One job. One shirt. You eat my food, you spend my money, and you can’t even do that?! You’re a leech!”

I stood frozen. My hands began to shake, but I said nothing. What could I say that wouldn’t make the situation worse?

“And that friend of yours downstairs—Kelsey, or whatever she’s called—you spend all day with her, talking about whatever! Blah, blah, blah! But you can’t see any of it at home!”

“Tyler, please…” I whispered. I felt a sudden wave of nausea, followed by a stabbing pain in my stomach. I reached for the wall for support. A metallic taste filled my mouth, and the room began to spin slightly, as if the walls were leaning away from me.

He snorted, put on a different shirt, and slammed the door behind him as he left. His departure echoed in the silence, sharp as the pain that still throbbed within me.

By midday, I could barely stand. Each step felt like walking on water, heavy and slow, as if my body no longer belonged to me.

My vision blurred, and the pain became unbearable. The tiles seemed to tilt beneath me, and a dizzying wave of white light pressed against the edges of my vision. I collapsed on the kitchen floor just as the boys were finishing dinner.