When Emily was still in preschool, I taught her to sleep in her own room.
It wasn’t because I didn’t love her. On the contrary—I loved her enough to understand that
a child cannot grow if they always cling to an adult’s arms.
Emily’s bedroom was the most beautiful room in the house.
– A two-meter-wide bed with a premium mattress worth nearly $2,000
– Shelves full of storybooks and comics
– Stuffed animals neatly arranged
– A soft yellow night light
Every night, I read her a story, kissed her forehead, and turned off the light.
Emily was never afraid to sleep alone.
Until… one morning.
“Mom, my bed felt really cramped last night…”
That morning, as I was preparing breakfast, Emily came out after brushing her teeth, wrapped her arms around my waist, and said sleepily:
“Mom… I didn’t sleep well last night.”
I turned around and smiled.
“Why not?”
Emily frowned, thought for a moment, then said:
“My bed felt… really cramped.”
I laughed.
“Your bed is two meters wide and you sleep alone—how could it be cramped? Or did you forget to tidy it up and let your stuffed animals and books take all the space?”
Emily shook her head.
“No, Mom. I cleaned it.”
I patted her head, thinking it was just a child’s complaint.
But I was wrong.
The Repeated Words That Made Me Uneasy
Two days later.
Then three.
Then an entire week.
Every morning, Emily said something similar:
“Mom, I couldn’t sleep well.”
“My bed felt too small.”
“I felt squeezed to one side.”
One morning, she asked a question that sent a chill down my spine:
“Mom… did you come into my room last night?”
I crouched down and looked straight into her eyes.
“No. Why?”
Emily hesitated.
“Because… it felt like someone was lying next to me.”
I forced a laugh and kept my voice calm.
“You must have been dreaming. Mom slept with Dad all night.”
But from that moment on, I stopped sleeping peacefully.
The Decision to Install a Camera
At first, I thought Emily might be having nightmares.
But as a mother, I could see the fear in her eyes.
I talked to my husband—Daniel Mitchell, a busy surgeon who often came home late after long shifts.
After listening, he smiled lightly.
“Kids imagine things. Our house is secure—nothing like that could happen.”
I didn’t argue.
I simply installed a camera.
A small, discreet camera in the corner of Emily’s bedroom ceiling. Not to spy on my child, but to reassure myself.
That night, Emily slept peacefully.
The bed was clear.
No clutter.
Nothing taking up space.
I exhaled in relief.
Until 2 a.m.
