I was furious.
I told myself he was being irresponsible.
I told myself Sarah should have planned better.
I told myself that having three children meant accepting that emergencies would happen.
But underneath all those thoughts was something I didn’t want to admit.
Guilt.
I sat alone in the quiet house, staring at my phone.
I expected Sarah to call.
She didn’t.
I finally went to bed, but I barely slept.
Every time I closed my eyes, I heard her voice.
“Mom, please.”
The next morning, my husband came home.
