I watched the footage with a sense of dread, my heart thundering in my chest. The room was dimly lit, a soft nightlight casting gentle shadows across the walls. Emma lay in her bed, small and fragile, her chest rising and falling in the even rhythm of sleep. Everything seemed peaceful at first, but that tranquility was short-lived.
Evan entered the room quietly, just as he had on the night I’d found them together. He sat on the edge of Emma’s bed, brushing a gentle hand over her forehead. It seemed innocent, but then something shifted. Emma began to stir, her face contorting as if she were locked in a nightmare.
Evan’s proximity was supposed to soothe her, but as the minutes ticked by, Emma’s distress visibly mounted. She whimpered softly, her tiny hands reaching out as though grasping for something intangible. Evan remained by her side, his expression oddly detached, as if he were waiting for something.
