My heart raced, a primal instinct urging me to act. I crept toward her room, the floorboards creaking beneath my feet. Cracking the door open ever so slightly, I peered inside. What I saw was a tableau that sent shockwaves through me. Oliver lay beside Mellie, his arm draped protectively around her, his face serene in the dim glow of the nightlight.
“Oliver?” I whispered, the word a breath, fragile and uncertain.
He stirred, blinking sleep from his eyes. “She had another nightmare. I stayed to help her calm down so she could sleep.”
I wanted to believe him. Mellie had always been prone to nightmares, a legacy of my previous marriage that I thought we had banished. There had been nights I had sat beside her, holding her hand until she drifted off, but seeing him there felt wrong. Something in me churned—a feeling I couldn’t quite articulate, an itch beneath my skin.
The next morning, I did nothing. I kept my silence, my thoughts a tangled web of confusion and fear. Instead, I took a different path and purchased a small camera. Something discreet, a hidden observer in our home. I installed it high up in Mellie’s room, ensuring it wouldn’t be noticed. It felt invasive, and yet, like a shadow creeping through my mind, I thought it was necessary. I had to know.
Fractured Illusions
