Lydia had a gnawing sense that something wasn’t right, even though her husband dismissed her concerns. But when the phone rang and her daughter’s trembling voice whispered, “Mom, I saw a camera in the room,” everything inside Lydia froze—her worst fears were confirmed.
The kitchen clock seemed to echo through the silence, each tick dragging on like an eternity.
Lydia sat stiffly at the table, arms tightly crossed, her foot tapping a restless beat on the cold tile beneath her.
The soft flicker of the oven light cast shadows on the walls, the air filled with the rich aroma of roasted chicken—but she couldn’t bring herself to eat.
Across the room, Mark stood at the counter, rhythmically chopping vegetables while humming casually under his breath.
His demeanor was calm, unbothered, as though nothing could possibly disturb the peace of their home.
Lydia let out a heavy sigh. “I can’t take this anymore,” she said under her breath, frustration lacing her tone.
She stood abruptly, her chair screeching against the floor.
“I’m going to get her.”
Mark didn’t look up. “Lyd, seriously?” His voice was light, almost teasing. “It’s just a sleepover.”
“She’s never had one before. It’s her first time staying over at Kara’s,” Lydia reminded him, her voice growing sharp with unease.
She grabbed her keys off the table, clutching them so tightly her knuckles whitened.
“I’ve never trusted Kara. Even back in school, she always had it in for me.”
Mark finally turned, placing the knife on the counter with a sigh. His expression was calm, even slightly amused.
“That was twenty years ago, Lydia. People change. You’re reading too much into this.”
Lydia shook her head. “I don’t care. I feel it in my gut.”
Mark walked over, drying his hands on a towel before gently placing one on her arm.
“She’s fine. You’ve got to let her breathe a little,” he said softly, his voice adopting that calming tone he always used when he wanted to defuse tension. “Trust her.”
Lydia took a deep breath, trying to suppress the whirlwind inside. Maybe Mark was right. Maybe she was being too cautious. Ellie needed to grow, to have some space.
“Maybe I’m overthinking…” she murmured, though the words didn’t feel right.
That’s when the phone rang.
The sound cut through the air like a siren. Lydia snatched it up without hesitation.
“Ellie?”
There was silence at first. Then a quivering whisper: “Mom?”
Lydia’s heart skipped.
“Sweetheart? What’s wrong?”
“I just saw a camera in the room,” Ellie said, her voice shaking.
Lydia’s blood turned to ice.
“A… what?”
“There’s a little red light in the corner. I think it’s recording.”
Every nerve in Lydia’s body went rigid.
“I’m coming to get you,” she said, already yanking on her coat and heading for the door.
“Don’t move. I’m almost there.”
Lydia’s fists pounded on Kara’s front door with urgency. Her hands throbbed, but she barely noticed.
Her only thought: Ellie’s in danger.
Finally, the door opened. Kara stood there, composed, leaning casually on the frame, lips curled in a falsely sweet smile.
“Oh, Lydia. I didn’t expect you.”
Lydia didn’t wait. She barged inside, ignoring Kara’s perfume and forced calm.
“Ellie?” she called out.
Within seconds, Ellie appeared, running straight into Lydia’s arms. The force nearly knocked her back, but Lydia didn’t care. She hugged her tightly, her daughter’s racing heartbeat mirroring her own.
“Are you okay?” Lydia asked, gently pulling back to search Ellie’s face.
Ellie nodded quickly. “I didn’t know what to do.”
“You did everything right,” Lydia whispered.
Then she turned toward Kara, eyes blazing. “She found a camera in the room.”
Kara didn’t blink. “It was off,” she said casually, crossing her arms. “It’s for safety. That window’s easy to break into.”
Lydia narrowed her eyes. “Then why was there a red light on it?”
For the first time, Kara faltered. It was subtle, but Lydia saw it.
“That camera was active,” Lydia hissed, stepping forward. “I want every bit of footage deleted. Right now.”
Kara rolled her eyes, sighing theatrically. “Fine. I’ll delete it. But you’re being irrational, Lydia.”
Lydia ignored the condescension. She reached down for Ellie’s hand.
“We’re leaving. She’s never coming here again.”
They walked out, Ellie clinging to her like a life preserver. Kara didn’t say a word, but Lydia felt her stare as they left.
The car ride was quiet, weighed down by silence so thick it felt suffocating.
Lydia gripped the steering wheel tightly, her mind spinning with everything that had happened.
Then Mark spoke. “Don’t you think you’re going too far?”
She turned sharply. “Too far? There was a camera in the room where our daughter slept!”
Mark rubbed his forehead. “Maybe it was for security—Kara said it was for the window…”
Lydia laughed bitterly. “You’re defending her? Again?”
“You always do this,” Mark muttered. “You bring up the past like we’re still in high school.”
Lydia glared at him. “And you still defend her like we’re teenagers. Not your wife—her.”
Mark said nothing after that. The rest of the ride passed in tense silence.
The next morning, Lydia stood in the kitchen, staring into a cup of cold coffee. Sleep had barely touched her.
Mark moved quietly, slipping on his jacket.
“Where are you going?” she asked, arms crossed.
“Meeting. Something last-minute,” he said, not meeting her eyes.
Lydia frowned. “You said you were free today.”
He paused, then shrugged. “Plans changed.”
The moment the door closed, Lydia bolted to his office. Her heart pounded as she opened his laptop.
Then she saw it—an email from Kara.
“Hey, I reviewed the camera footage before deleting it. You need to see something. About Lydia and Ellie. Come over before I erase it.”
Lydia’s pulse spiked. Without thinking, she grabbed her keys and ran.
She didn’t knock.
The front door slammed open with a crash. Picture frames rattled as Lydia stormed in.
In the living room, Mark stood frozen in front of a laptop, eyes glued to the screen.
Kara stood beside him, arms crossed, wearing a smug smile.
“What is this?” Lydia demanded.
Mark slowly turned the screen toward her.
Ellie appeared on screen, sitting on a bed.
“Sometimes I don’t like being at home,” she said quietly. “Mom’s always angry. I like it here better.”
Lydia gasped. “That’s not true—”
Kara smirked. “That’s your daughter saying it.”
Tears blurred Lydia’s vision.
Then another voice interrupted.
“That’s not real.”
Emma, Kara’s daughter, stood in the doorway, clutching a teddy bear.
Mark looked at her. “What do you mean?”
Emma hesitated, then whispered, “It was a game. I dared Ellie to say that. Mommy told us to.”
Lydia felt the room spin.
Kara went rigid. “Emma, go to your room,” she snapped.
Mark turned to Kara slowly. “You planned this?”
Kara faltered. “I—”
“You’re still obsessed,” Mark said coldly.
Her expression cracked. “She’s not right for you! I’ve always been better for you!”
Silence.
Mark didn’t hesitate. He slammed the laptop shut and turned to Lydia.
“Let’s go.”
Lydia followed him, gripping Ellie’s hand like a lifeline.
They left without another word.
The ride home was quiet, heavy with exhaustion and relief.
Finally, Mark whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Lydia reached over, took his hand, and squeezed.
“Me too.”
For the first time in a long time, they were sure of one thing—they were on the same side.