I often order food delivery when I’m too exhausted to cook for my kids. Over time, we became familiar with Ravi, our regular delivery guy. He’d always take a moment to chat with Kai and Isla, even high-fiving them before leaving. But last Tuesday night was different.

When Ravi arrived, he seemed unusually anxious. He hastily handed me the food and hurried back to his car without saying a word.

“What’s up with Ravi?” Kai asked, glancing out the window.

I shrugged, watching Ravi drive away. “No idea, maybe he was in a rush.”

While putting the food away, I noticed something odd—a message scribbled on the back of the bag:

“CHECK YOUR TRASH CAN.”

Feeling a jolt of alarm, I sent my kids to wash up and rushed outside to our trash cans. My heart pounded as I lifted the lid of the first one—nothing. But the second one made me freeze. Inside, wrapped in an old blanket, were gloves, small tools, and a bottle of unlabeled liquid.

“Mom? What’s wrong?” Isla’s voice startled me.

I slammed the lid shut, forcing a smile. “Everything’s fine, sweetie. Go on inside. I’ll be right there.”

I quickly called the sheriff’s department. When Leona, the local deputy, arrived, she inspected the trash and confirmed my worst fear—someone had been planning to break into my house, using chemicals to weaken the locks. I spent the night arranging for security cameras to be installed the next morning.

Later, when I ran into Ravi, he explained he’d seen suspicious men messing with our trash and wanted to warn me but was too scared to confront them directly.

Thanks to Ravi’s quick thinking and the sheriff’s support, my family avoided a potential break-in. The new security measures gave me peace of mind, and I realized how lucky we were to have unexpected allies looking out for us.