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. “What’s wrong with Ravi?”

Kai asked, peering out the window. “I don’t know, buddy. Maybe he’s in a rush,” I replied, watching his car disappear down the street. As I set the food on the kitchen counter, still wondering about Ravi’s strange behavior, I noticed something scribbled on the back of the delivery bag. The shaky handwriting caught my attention immediately, and when I read the message, dinner was the last thing on my mind.“CHECK YOUR TRASH CAN.”