Our Baby Was Sleeping Peacefully… Until I Realized Who Was Standing Beside the Crib (2 of 3)

My husband.

He was standing near the crib, perfectly still, his head tilted just slightly, watching our baby sleep.

My chest tightened. I didn’t even have time to process it — because ten minutes earlier, I’d heard the front door close. He’d told me he was going out to get some air, maybe grab a coffee from the all-night diner. I’d watched him leave. I heard the car start.

And yet… there he was. In the nursery.

For a few long seconds, I just stared at the screen, frozen. The camera’s night vision made everything glow — the crib, the soft blanket, my husband’s silhouette, gray and grainy. He wasn’t moving. Just standing there.

I felt the room spin. My first thought was that maybe he’d come back without me noticing — maybe he’d forgotten something, or maybe… I didn’t know. But deep down, something was wrong. The way he stood there — silent, rigid, eyes fixed — it wasn’t him. It couldn’t be.

I threw off the blanket and ran down the hall. My feet hit the floor too hard, making the old wood creak under me. I remember the faint hum of the baby monitor still echoing behind me. The nursery door was cracked open just a sliver.

I pushed it open.

And my heart nearly stopped.

The room was empty. The baby was sleeping soundly in his crib. No one else was there.

The air was cold — unnaturally cold — like a window had been left open. But they were all shut. I could feel that someone had been there; the room still carried that faint, electric tension, the kind that makes your hair stand up.