My daughter, Ivy, never fussed at night. But I started hearing strange noises coming from her nursery. To ease my anxiety, I bought a baby monitor. Then one night, while watching it, I saw someone reach into her crib.
I cherished those peaceful evenings.
Ivy would cuddle in her ducky blanket, sleeping soundly like a little kitten. Judson was in the kitchen making cocoa. I was lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.
This was happiness. This was everything.
A few minutes later, Judson walked out of Ivy’s room, barefoot and with a smirk on his face.
“She was asleep in two minutes. What is this, some kind of magic lullaby?”
“Nope. She just knows who’s in charge here.”
He set the mugs down and plopped beside me, pulling me into his arms.
“Look at us, Reina. Can you believe we’ve turned into those parents? The ones who record every sneeze?”
I laughed because, yeah, that was us. We had even filmed Ivy’s first sneeze and sent it to everyone—friends, family, even my old boss. Life was calm, simple, and perfect.
Then came that night.
I woke up after midnight, not sure what had disturbed my sleep. Judson was snoring beside me, and the clock read 3:15 AM.
I rolled over, ready to fall back asleep… but then I heard it.
A faint rustling. Coming from the nursery. It was soft, almost like fabric shifting or footsteps.
I nudged Judson.
“Hey. Do you hear that?”
“Hm? What?” he murmured, half-asleep.
“There’s something in Ivy’s room…”
“Probably just her turning over. Go back to sleep, Rey.”
But I was already sitting up and swinging my legs off the bed. I crept down the hallway, my bare feet brushing against the cold wood. I opened Ivy’s door slowly, careful not to make a sound.
The room was quiet. Ivy was asleep, peaceful as always.
Toys were in their basket. The mobile above her crib spun gently, like usual. No open window, no draft—just silence. I stood there for a moment, straining to hear anything.
But nothing. The next night, the same thing happened. That faint sound. I checked again, and everything was fine.
By the third night, Judson was getting frustrated.
“Rey, it’s gotta be the vents or the pipes. This house isn’t new.”
“I keep hearing it every night. One of these times, I’m going to walk in and actually see something.”
“What, like a diaper thief? A baby ghost?”
I didn’t laugh. I was getting more and more certain that something was off. The next morning, I ordered the baby monitor my best friend, Kaylie, had recommended. She knew everything about baby gadgets.
“You’re just being paranoid,” she said in a voice message, half-laughing. “But fine, this one’s amazing. Audio, video, night vision. You can even watch her from the bathroom.”
When it arrived, I set it up myself. Mounted it perfectly near the crib, ran a test.
The picture was crystal clear—I could see Ivy’s little fingers.
“That’s it,” I said to Judson that night as we climbed into bed. “Now I’m going to sleep.”
“Hallelujah,” he muttered, kissing my forehead.
I lay there, watching the monitor. Ivy’s tiny face, her chest rising and falling gently. I set it on the nightstand and closed my eyes. Maybe fifteen minutes passed… then—
A scream. Sudden. Sharp. Then crying. Ivy!
I jolted up and grabbed the monitor.
The image flickered, blurry shadows.
And there, behind the crib… something.
A shape!
Just for a second. Then it disappeared. I screamed.
“Judson! Wake up!”
I rushed into Ivy’s room, feeling like I was flying. She was crying, her face flushed and sweaty, but there was no one else.
I scanned the room—under the crib, the closet—nothing. The stillness felt suffocating.
Then I saw it. Ivy’s bottle. On the floor near the chair.
I picked it up. It was warm. Not just room temperature, but warm. Someone had heated it recently.
“What the…” I whispered.
“Reina?” Judson stumbled in behind me, half-dressed and rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on?”
“I got her.” I lifted Ivy into my arms.
Her diaper was soaked. She hiccupped into my neck as I laid her on the changing table, trying to steady my shaking hands. Judson leaned against the doorframe.
“You said she was screaming?”
“I saw something. On the monitor. A shadow. Behind the crib. A person.”
“A what?”
“A person, Judson. I’m not making this up.”
“You probably just saw your reflection or something. You were half-asleep.”
I turned to him, still holding Ivy. “No. It wasn’t me. I saw it. And…” I pointed to the bottle. “Someone warmed up her milk.”
Judson stared at it for a moment, then shrugged. “You sure you didn’t do that in your sleep? You’ve sleepwalked before. You once tried to make grilled cheese with the iron.”
“This isn’t the same.”
He picked up the monitor from the shelf. “You’ve been freaking out for days. First the sounds, now this. Maybe it’s just all that hyper-mom stuff kicking in.”
“I’m not paranoid, Judson. There was a person. On the screen.”
“She probably just woke up needing a diaper change,” he said, gently stroking Ivy’s hair. “Babies do that. It’s not some horror movie.”
“And the bottle?”
“You made it. Without remembering. It happens.”
“No, Judson. I didn’t warm that bottle. And if I did, why would I leave it on the floor?”
He sighed and pulled out his phone. “Fine. I’ll check the alarm log.”
While he tapped around, I finished changing Ivy and cradled her in my arms. She was already drifting off again, poor thing.
“Everything’s secure,” Judson mumbled. “No breaches. No open doors. Nothing. The system would’ve pinged me if anything was off.”
I didn’t respond.
“I’m going back to bed,” he added, pressing a kiss to my temple. “And I strongly recommend you do the same.”
I sat there, watching Ivy sleep. But something still didn’t feel right.
I got up and walked over to the window. It wasn’t fully shut. There was a small gap, letting in a sliver of cold air. I reached out to pull it shut and something caught.
Hanging from the sill was a tiny silver pendant. A charm.
A delicate heart, cracked down the middle.
No way…
I recognized it immediately.
I hadn’t seen that pendant in years.
I knew exactly who it belonged to.
The next morning, I couldn’t wait for the sun to come up. At exactly 7 AM, the nanny rang the bell. I handed Ivy over, along with two bottles, a blanket, and a tight smile.
“Please don’t take your eyes off the monitor. I won’t be long. Just… a few hours.”
I drove, not quite sure what I was going to find. The house was just as I remembered—standing in the same hollow by the trees, sagging at the porch, stubborn as ever.
The chipped ceramic owl still sat on the railing. The same lace curtains hung in the windows. It felt like time had stopped there.
I barely stepped onto the porch when the door opened.
“I figured you’d come, dear.”
“You broke into my house, Mom,” I snapped, pushing past her. “I don’t want to see you. I don’t want you near my family.”
“I just wanted to hold her. Just once. Just for a moment.”
“How did you even get inside? We have a security system.”
She didn’t answer. My heart dropped as I heard footsteps in the hall. Judson stepped out.
“You? You’re in on this?”
Judson held up his hands. “I caught her once. She was in Ivy’s room, rocking her. I almost called the cops. But then she begged me not to tell you.”
I stared at my mother, demanding answers.
“Your dad had someone else,” she whispered. “He didn’t want to fight in court, so he used his influence to have me committed. He said I was unstable.”
“Oh my God, Mom! What other woman?”
She hesitated. “Jessie.”
“Aunt Jessie? No. She was the one who took care of me when you disappeared. She was kind. She… helped me.”
“Of course she did. She kept me locked away for five years. She was in charge of the department. She and your father made sure I couldn’t see you. Couldn’t call you. Nothing.”
I sank into an armchair, my chest tight.
“You came back.”
“I did. When you were in college. I stood outside your class once, hoping you’d see me. But you didn’t.”
“I thought you didn’t want to see me.”
“He let me go once you were gone. When he sold the house. When there was nothing left to divide.”
I pressed my fingers to my temples. “Oh, Mom…”
Judson stepped forward slowly.
“I believed her, Reina. I didn’t want to at first. That’s why I hired a private investigator. I needed to know the truth. And she was telling the truth. Everything checked out. We’re working on it now.”
I looked at him, my voice growing cold. “And all that time? You just… let