My daughter, Ivy, never wept during the night. However, I continued to perceive unusual noises emanating from the nursery. I purchased a baby monitor to alleviate my anxiety, until one night, I observed a somebody reaching into her cot.

I cherished those tranquil evenings.

Ivy nestled under her duck-patterned comforter, breathing gently like a kitten. Judson was in the kitchen mixing chocolate on the stove. I reclined on the couch, gazing at the ceiling, contemplating.

This is the moment. This constitutes happiness.

Shortly thereafter, Judson exited Ivy’s room, barefoot and self-satisfied.

“She was unconscious for two minutes. Is that a form of enchanting lullaby?”

No. She is very aware of her authority in this context.

Judson placed the mugs on the sofa table and sat down alongside me, enveloping me in his embrace.

“Observe us, Reina.” Can you believe we have become those parents? “The individuals who document every sneeze?”

I chuckled, since that indeed represented us. We recorded her inaugural sneeze and disseminated it to all — family, friends, and even my former employer. Existence appeared harmonious. Serene. Uncomplicated.

Prior to that evening.

I awoke after midnight. Initially, I was uncertain about what had provoked my agitation. Judson was dozing adjacent to me, the clock illuminated at 03:15.

I turned over, on the verge of falling asleep again, when I heard it.

A subtle rustle. Originating from the nursery. Merely supple, akin to silk in motion. Or gentle footsteps.

I prodded Judson.

“Greetings. Do you perceive that?”

“Pardon?” What is the matter?He muttered, partially unconscious.

“An object in Ivy’s room…”

“Likely merely her repositioning.” “Return to slumber, Rey.”

However, I was already seated, swinging my legs off the bed. I stealthily traversed the corridor, barefoot on the frigid wood. Gently and cautiously opened Ivy’s door.

Nothing. Tranquility. Ivy was slumbering, tranquil as always.

Items in their container. The mobile over her cot rotated languidly, as per usual. Absence of a draft, absence of an open window. Merely… Quietude. I remained stationary for a brief while. Auditory reception. Attempting to capture it once more.

However, there was an absence of anything. The subsequent night — identical circumstances. The gentle, subtle tone. I went to verify, and once more… everything seemed OK.

On the third night, Judson was unequivocally irritated.

“Rey, it must be the vent.” Alternatively, the pipelines. This house is not new.

“I continue to hear it.” Each evening. At some point, I shall enter and find something present.

“Are you suggesting a thief of diapers?” Infant specter?”

I did not find it amusing. That morning, I procured the baby monitor that Kaylie had extolled. My closest companion has comprehensive knowledge regarding infant devices.

“You are exhibiting paranoia,” she stated in a voice message, somewhat chuckling. “However, this one is exceptional.” Acoustic, visual, nocturnal observation. You can observe her from the restroom.

Upon its arrival, I configured it independently. Affixed it adjacent to the crib, adjusting the angle meticulously. Conducted an experiment.

The image was exceptionally crisp – I could enumerate Ivy’s tiny fingers.

“That is all,” I informed Judson that evening as we retired to bed. “I am finally going to sleep.”

“Hallelujah,” he said, pressing his lips on my forehead.

I reclined, observing the monitor screen. Ivy’s diminutive visage, her thorax elevating and descending. I placed it on the nightstand and shut my eyes. Approximately fifteen minutes elapsed. Subsequently…

A shriek. Abrupt. Acute. Subsequently weeping. Ivy!

I sprang up and seized the monitor.

The image trembled. Malfunctioned. Indistinct silhouettes.

Behind the crib, there was something…

A geometric figure!

Merely for an instant. Subsequently, it vanished. I shouted.

“Judson!” “Awaken!”

I entered Ivy’s room as if my feet were not in contact with the ground. She was lamenting, her face flushed and perspiring. However, there was no one else present.

I examined the shadows, inspected beneath the crib, and abruptly opened the closet. Nothing. No motion. Only that profound, unsettling silence.

However, I then observed it. The bottle belonging to Ivy. On the ground, adjacent to the chair.

I retrieved it. The plastic was heated. Not tepid. Temperate. It has been heated by someone. Recently.

“What on earth…”

“Reina?”Judson entered after me, partially clothed and rubbing his eyes. “What is occurring?“

I elevate Ivy into my embrace.

“I have acquired her.”

Her diaper was saturated. She hiccuped against my neck. I placed her on the changing table, attempting to steady my trembling hands. Judson reclined against the doorframe.

“Did you indicate that she was screaming?”

I observed something. Displayed on the monitor. An obscurity. Located in the rear of the crib. An individual.

“What is that?”

“An individual, Judson.” I am not fabricating this.

You likely observed your own reflection or anything similar. You were in a state of semi-consciousness.

I faced him, grasping Ivy’s small foot. “Negative.” I am not responsible. I observed it. “And…” I gestured towards the bottle. “An individual heated her milk.”

Judson gazed at it momentarily, then shrugged. “Are you certain you did not perform that action while asleep?” You have previously engaged in sleepwalking, Rey. You previously attempted to prepare grilled cheese with an iron.

“This is not identical.”

He approached and retrieved the monitor off the shelf. You have been agitated for several days. Initially the sounds, and now this. Perhaps it is merely the manifestation of excessive maternal instincts.

“I am not paranoid, Judson.” A person existed. Displayed on the screen.

“She likely just awakened requiring a diaper change,” he remarked, softly caressing Ivy’s hair. Infants exhibit such behavior. It is not a horror film.

“What about the bottle?”

“You have succeeded.” Absent recollection. It occurs.

“Negative, Judson.” I did not heat that bottle. If I did, why would I place it on the floor?

He exhaled audibly and retrieved his phone.

“Acceptable.” I will review the alarm log.

As he tapped away, I completed changing Ivy and held her in my arms. She was once again succumbing to slumber, unfortunate soul.

“All is secure,” Judson murmured. No violations. No accessible entrances. Nothing. The system would have alerted me if there were any discrepancies.

I refrained from responding.

“I shall return to bed,” he remarked, placing a kiss on my temple. I highly advise you to do likewise.

I observed Ivy while she slept. However, an unsettling sensation persisted.

I approached the window to confirm. It was not completely shut. A narrow stream of air entered through the opening. Frigid. I attempted to close it, but something became lodged.

A small silver pendant dangled from the sill. An amulet.

A fragile heart, fractured in its center.

Impossible…

I had not observed that pendant in years.

I was well aware of the owner.

I could hardly await the morning. At precisely 7 a.m., the nanny rang the bell. I presented Ivy with two bottles, a blanket, and a constrained smile.

“Kindly maintain your focus on the monitor. I shall not be delayed. Merely… a few hours.”

Subsequently, I entered the vehicle and commenced driving. I had not visited that house in years. There was a rationale for that. It remained in the same hollow under the trees, sagging at the porch, as obstinate as ever.

The fractured porcelain owl remained on the fence. The identical lace curtains adorn the front windows. As if time had ceased to progress in this place. I had just set foot on the porch when the door sprang wide.

“I anticipated your arrival, dear.”

“You unlawfully entered my residence, Mother,” I retorted, maneuvering passed her. “I wish to avoid your presence. I do not desire you in proximity to my family.”

“I merely desired to embrace her. Just once. Just for an instant.”

“How did you gain entry? We possess a security system.”

She failed to respond. I pivoted towards the hallway the moment I detected a squeak. My spouse exited.

“You?! Are you complicit in this?”

Judson raised his hands. “I discovered her once in Ivy’s room, cradling her. I nearly contacted the authorities, but then she gazed at me and implored me not to inform you.”

I gazed at my mother, seeking clarification.

“Your father had another person,” she said. “He sought to avoid court and conflict, thus leveraging his influence to have me admitted to a psychiatric facility, claiming I was unstable.”

“Oh, Mother! How could this occur? And… which other woman?”

She paused, then stated, “Jessie.”

“Aunt Jessie? No. She attended to my needs during your absence. She was compassionate. She… assisted me.”

“Indeed, she did. She confined me for five years. She was the head of the department. She and your father ensured that I was unable to see you, contact you, or do anything.”

I collapsed onto the armchair’s edge, my heart racing.

“You have returned.”

“I did. During your college years, I stood outside your classroom once, hoping you would notice me. However, you chose not to acknowledge my presence.”

“I believed you did not wish to see me.”

“He released me once you departed. When he sold the property. When there was nothing remaining to partition.”

I applied pressure with my fingertips on my temples. “Oh, Mother…”

Judson advanced gradually.

“I trusted her, Reina. Initially, I was reluctant, which is why I engaged a private investigator. I required confirmation of the truth. She was indeed truthful; all the information corroborated. Upon discovering this, I consulted a lawyer. We are currently addressing the matter.”

I gazed at him, my tone becoming frigid. “During all that time, you simply allowed her to enter at night?”

“I left the rear window slightly open and deactivated the alarm, solely for her. I ensured it was secure.”

“You both deceived me every night.”

“No,” Judson replied. “We merely awaited the opportunity to disclose the truth to you.”

I observed them: my mother, whom I had despised for years, and the man I trusted above all others.

“I am uncertain of my emotions. However, I am fatigued. I am returning to Ivy.” I pivoted towards the door. “If either of you wishes to be helpful, prepare dinner. We will converse afterward.”

I out into the early afternoon sunlight, entered the vehicle, and commenced driving.

I let the silence to occupy the interval between breaths. Interim period. Between that which is irreparable and that which remains amenable to restoration.

I experienced anger. Indignant towards them. Frustrated at myself. Throughout the extensive period squandered—years constructed upon deception, reticence, and trepidation. However, a warmer sensation began to emerge in my chest.

Affection was reemerging. Thus was hope. And serene contentment, recognizing that Ivy would be raised by a grandmother who genuinely cherished her. Additionally, I would ultimately possess a mother that cherished me as well.