We were only gone for ten days. When we returned, we discovered our home had been broken into. But the biggest shock wasn’t the robbery itself—it was who did it. What the security footage showed changed everything.
I’m Sofia, 44 years old. Just two weeks ago, my biggest concerns were tax season and the fact that my hairline was starting to betray me.
Life was predictable—work, bills, microwave dinners, and the usual debates about whose turn it was to do the dishes.
Nothing remarkable—just me, trying to juggle my job, keep my marriage steady, and maintain some form of peace at home.
Rick, my husband of 19 years, is my balance. He’s the kind of man who alphabetizes the spice jars and chats with our houseplants like they’re coworkers.
I work in healthcare administration. It’s chaotic—paperwork, pressure, never enough staff. Between that and managing Emma, our moody 16-year-old, a real vacation had felt like a fantasy we’d never quite reach.
But somehow, we made it happen. Ten days on the Oregon coast, just the two of us. No emails. No alarms. Just cold sand, warm wine, and quiet mornings.
Before we left, we made sure everything was secure. Emma stayed with my sister Jenna, just a couple blocks away. I triple-checked the doors. Rick tested the new security cameras—because I’d insisted, of course.
When we came back, though… something felt off right away.
Rick flicked the light switch and hesitated. “Did you leave this drawer open?” he asked, motioning to the side table.
“No,” I said, suddenly uneasy.
He shut the drawer gently. “Maybe Emma came by?”
I didn’t answer. My chest tightened as I stepped further inside. The hand-painted vase that usually sat by the stairs—the one I bought at a Vermont craft fair—was gone.