“Why are you sleeping here?” I whispered sharply.
He looked up, calm and tired.
“She was crying again. I went in to comfort her and must’ve fallen asleep.”
It sounded reasonable, but a heavy unease settled over me, like the air before a storm.
The Camera
Fear took root in me — not just fear of losing trust in Landon, but fear of something far worse, something no mother ever wants to imagine.
I decided to hide a small camera in Lily’s room. I told Landon it was for home security, but I was really watching him.
That night, I reviewed the footage on my phone.
At around 2 a.m., Lily sat up in bed — her eyes open but blank. She began walking slowly around the room, bumping softly against the wall before standing still.
My heart stopped.
A few minutes later, the door opened. Landon walked in. He didn’t panic or shout. He simply wrapped his arms around her, whispering something I couldn’t hear.
Lily relaxed, climbed back into bed, and soon fell asleep peacefully.
I stayed awake until morning, unable to close my eyes.
The Diagnosis
The next day, I brought the video to a pediatric sleep specialist. After watching, the doctor said gently,