Lydia’s gut told her something was wrong, but her husband insisted she was overreacting. Then the phone rang. Her daughter’s whisper sent a chill down her spine—“Mom, I just saw a camera in the room.” In that moment, Lydia knew—her instincts had been right all along.
The clock on the kitchen wall seemed to tick louder than usual, each second stretching longer than it should.
Lydia sat stiffly at the table, arms folded tightly across her chest, her foot tapping an anxious rhythm against the cool, tiled floor.
The glow of the oven cast flickering shadows along the walls, the scent of roasted chicken filling the air, but she had no appetite.
Across the kitchen, Mark stood at the counter, humming a tune under his breath as he chopped vegetables.
His movements were slow, relaxed, his shoulders loose, as if nothing in the world could disturb his peace.
Lydia exhaled sharply. “I can’t do this,” she muttered, her voice thick with tension.
She pushed back from the table, standing so quickly that the chair scraped against the tile.
“I’m going to pick her up.”
Mark didn’t even pause his slicing. “Lyd, come on.” His tone was light, as if she were being ridiculous. “It’s just a sleepover.”
She turned to face him fully, her eyes dark with worry. “Her first sleepover. At Kara’s house.”
She reached for her car keys on the table, gripping them so tightly her knuckles turned white.
“I never trusted that woman. Even back in high school, she always had it out for me.”
Mark finally looked up, sighing as he set the knife down. His face was patient, almost amused.
“That was twenty years ago. People change. You’re overthinking this.”
Mark wiped his hands on a dish towel before stepping toward her. He placed a warm, steadying hand on her arm, his touch meant to soothe.
“She’s fine. You need to let her have some independence,” he said gently. His voice softened, the way it always did when he wanted her to calm down. “Trust her, Lydia.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, forcing herself to take a deep breath. Maybe she was being irrational.
Maybe Mark was right. Ellie was just a kid, but she wasn’t helpless. She had to let go a little, didn’t she?
“Maybe you’re right…” she admitted, though the words tasted wrong.
Then, her phone rang.
The sharp sound cut through the room like a blade. Lydia snatched the phone off the counter without thinking, barely glancing at the screen before answering.
“Sweetheart?”
For a second, there was only silence. Then, a small, shaky whisper:
“Mom.”
Lydia’s grip tightened around the phone. “Ellie?”
Her daughter’s voice trembled. “I just saw a camera in the room.”
Lydia’s breath caught in her throat.
“What?” she said, her voice suddenly sharp.
“A camera,” Ellie repeated, quieter this time. “It was in the corner. I saw a little red light. I don’t think it’s supposed to be there.”
The blood drained from Lydia’s face. The bad feeling in her gut solidified into something cold and real.
“I’m coming,” she said immediately, her voice firm. She was already grabbing her coat, already moving toward the door.
“Stay where you are. I’m on my way.”
Lydia pounded on the door so hard that her knuckles stung, but she didn’t care. Her pulse pounded in her ears, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts.
She could barely think past the single thought repeating in her mind: Ellie is in there.
After what felt like forever, the door finally swung open. Kara stood there, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arched, a smile already curving her lips.
It wasn’t a welcoming smile—it was the kind people used when they were trying to hide something.
“Oh, Lydia,” Kara said smoothly, leaning against the doorframe like she had all the time in the world. “Wasn’t expecting you.”
Lydia didn’t waste a second. She shoved past Kara without answering, the smell of lavender and something artificial—like expensive hairspray—filling her nose as she brushed against her.
“Ellie?” Lydia called, her voice tight.
Before she could take another step, Ellie came running. She collided with Lydia’s chest so fast that Lydia stumbled back slightly, but she didn’t care.
She wrapped her arms around her daughter, squeezing her tightly, feeling the wild pounding of Ellie’s little heart against her own.
The familiar scent of strawberry shampoo filled Lydia’s nose, grounding her for just a second.
“Are you okay?” she murmured, pulling back just enough to scan Ellie’s face. She cupped her daughter’s cheeks, searching for any sign of fear or distress.
Ellie nodded quickly, her eyes wide. “I just—I didn’t know what to do.”
Lydia’s hands tightened around Ellie’s arms. “It’s okay. You did the right thing.”
Then, Lydia turned—slowly, deliberately—to face Kara. Her body was stiff with barely contained rage. “She found a camera in the room.”
Kara didn’t flinch. Her expression didn’t change at all, like she had rehearsed this moment a hundred times.
“It was off,” she said with a small shrug, crossing her arms.
“I put it there because anyone could climb through that window. It’s for my daughter’s safety.”
Lydia narrowed her eyes. Her fingers twitched with the urge to grab something—anything—and throw it.
“Then why did Ellie see a red light?” she asked through gritted teeth. “If it was off, why was it on?”
For the first time, Kara hesitated. It was just a fraction of a second, but Lydia saw it.
“That camera shouldn’t have been on,” Lydia snapped, stepping forward. Her voice was sharp now, shaking with barely controlled fury.
“And I don’t care about your excuses. I want the footage deleted—now.”
Kara sighed dramatically, rubbing her temples like this was all one big inconvenience.
“Fine,” she said, drawing out the word like she was humoring a child. “I’ll delete it. But Lydia, you’re being paranoid.”
Lydia ignored her. She reached down, grabbed Ellie’s hand, and squeezed it tightly.
“We’re leaving,” she said, her voice firm. “And she’s never coming back here.”
Ellie clung to her side as they stormed out, her small fingers gripping Lydia’s like a lifeline.
Kara didn’t say another word, but Lydia could feel her gaze burning into her back.
The drive home was thick with silence, the kind that filled every inch of space, pressing down like a heavy weight.
The only sound was the low hum of the engine and the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers against the glass.
Lydia’s grip on the steering wheel was so tight her knuckles had turned pale.
Her jaw was locked, her breath coming in sharp, measured bursts as she tried to contain the fury boiling inside her.
She kept her eyes fixed on the road, but her mind raced, replaying every second of what had just happened.
Then, Mark spoke, his voice low, hesitant. “Lydia, don’t you think you’re overreacting?”
She snapped her head toward him, her glare cutting like a blade. “Overreacting?” Her voice was sharp, incredulous.
“There was a camera in the room where our daughter was sleeping!”
Mark exhaled, rubbing his temple. “But why was it there?” he countered. “To protect the girls. Not to spy on them. You’re acting like Kara had some creepy reason for it.”
Lydia let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “You’re defending her?”
Mark shifted in his seat. “I’m saying maybe she had a point.”
That did it. Lydia let out a harsh scoff. “You always took her side, didn’t you? Even in high school.”
Mark groaned, rolling his eyes. “Oh, come on, Lydia. That was years ago.”
She clenched her jaw, gripping the wheel tighter. “And now, here you are again, sticking up for her instead of your own wife.”
Mark didn’t answer.
Silence stretched between them for the rest of the ride, heavy and unbreakable.
The next morning, Lydia stood by the kitchen counter, cradling a cup of coffee that had long gone cold.
She barely noticed the bitter taste, her mind still spinning from the night before.
She had barely slept—every time she closed her eyes, she saw Ellie’s frightened face, heard Kara’s smug voice.
Across the room, Mark grabbed his jacket from the hook by the door.
Lydia set her cup down with a quiet clink. “Where are you going?” she asked, her arms crossing tightly over her chest.
Mark’s movements slowed for just a second before he spoke. “Work meeting.” His voice was casual—too casual—but he didn’t look at her.
Her gut twisted. A cold feeling settled in her stomach. “You said you had no plans today.”
Mark hesitated, just for a beat, before he exhaled and shrugged. “Something came up.”
Lydia stared at him, studying the tension in his shoulders, the way he avoided her eyes. Her fingers curled into her palms.
Without another word, Mark opened the door and stepped out. The second she heard his car pull away, she moved.
Heart pounding, she rushed to his office, her hands trembling as she flipped open his laptop. The screen glowed in the dim morning light. She pulled up his email, scanning quickly.
Then, she saw it.
Her breath caught.
A message from Kara.
“Hey, I reviewed the camera footage before deleting it. There’s something you need to see. It’s about Lydia and Ellie. Come by today before I erase it.”
Lydia’s hands shook.
Her pulse roared in her ears.
She grabbed her keys and bolted for the door.
Lydia didn’t knock. She didn’t hesitate. She shoved the door open so hard it slammed against the wall, rattling the picture frames hanging in the hallway.
Her heart pounded, a furious drumbeat against her ribs. Her breath was fast and shallow, her body tense, ready for battle.
The moment she stepped into the living room, she saw them.
Mark stood frozen in front of the couch, his eyes locked onto the glowing laptop screen on the coffee table. His face was pale, his jaw tight. He didn’t even glance up as Lydia entered.
Kara, however, did. She stood beside him, arms crossed, her lips curled into a smug, knowing smile.
Lydia’s stomach churned.
Something was very, very wrong.
“What is this?” Lydia demanded, her voice sharp as a blade.
Mark didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached down, picked up the laptop, and slowly turned the screen toward her.
Lydia’s breath caught in her throat.
On the screen, Ellie sat cross-legged on Kara’s daughter’s bed, her small hands clasped in her lap. Her voice was soft but clear.
“Sometimes I don’t like being at home. Mom is always mad. It’s better here.”
The words hit Lydia like a slap.
She stumbled back a step. “That’s not true. That’s not—”
Kara let out a slow, satisfied sigh, shaking her head. “Well,” she said smoothly, “that’s your daughter saying it.”
Tears burned at the corners of Lydia’s eyes.
How could this be happening?
Ellie wouldn’t say that. Not willingly. Not unless…
Then, a small voice cut through the thick silence.
“That’s not real.”
All three of them turned.
Emma, Kara’s daughter, stood in the doorway, clutching a stuffed bear against her chest. Her face was pale, her lower lip trembling.
Mark frowned. “What do you mean?”
Emma hesitated, shifting on her feet. She looked at her mother, then back at Lydia and Mark, her fingers tightening around the bear’s soft fur.
“It was just a game,” she whispered. “I dared Ellie to say it. Mom told us to play it.”
Lydia’s stomach dropped.
The room felt too small, the air too thick.
Kara stiffened beside Mark. “Emma, go to your room,” she said, her voice sharp, controlled.
Mark turned to Kara slowly, his expression darkening. “You set this up?” His voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it—an anger barely contained.
Kara swallowed hard. “I—”
Mark’s eyes narrowed. He took a step toward her, his shoulders squared. “You’re still on it, aren’t you? After all these years…”
Kara’s composure cracked. Her face twisted with something wild, something ugly.
“She is not good enough for you, Mark, and you know it!” she spat. Her voice rose, sharp and desperate. “I am better. I’ve always been better!”
Silence.
Lydia felt something snap inside her. The last piece of doubt, the last bit of hesitation—gone.
Mark didn’t say another word. He reached down, slammed the laptop shut with a force that made Kara flinch, then turned to Lydia.
“Let’s go.”
Lydia didn’t look back.
As they walked out the door, she could still hear Kara breathing heavily behind them, but she didn’t care.
She just gripped Ellie’s hand tighter, as if anchoring them both to something real. Something safe.
The drive home was quiet. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving only exhaustion behind.
After a long stretch of silence, Mark exhaled. “I’m sorry.”
Lydia glanced at him, then reached over and gripped his hand.
She squeezed.
“Me too.”
And for the first time in a long time, there was no doubt where they stood—together.
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