It started as a joke between Steve and me.
“Maybe we should check the cameras,” he’d said with a half-laugh one night after another door creaked open by itself.
“Yeah, right,” I’d replied, pretending I wasn’t terrified. “Maybe the ghosts will wave.”
But it wasn’t funny anymore.
---
The baby monitor’s green light flickered faintly on my nightstand, pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat.
Steve was on another late shift, and the house felt too large, too hollow, every creak and sigh amplified. The nursery camera had motion detection — a feature I’d never thought I’d need.
At exactly 2:13 AM, the monitor screen glowed white.
At first, I thought it was a glitch — static, a flash of light from a passing car. But no. The nursery window was closed, the curtains drawn tight. The light moved.
