There was nothing beneath it except the wooden floor.
But on the camera…
Something was clearly moving.
I stared at the phone screen, trying to convince myself that I was imagining it. The grainy black-and-white night-vision image showed Mia lying motionless on her side, her small chest rising and falling steadily with each breath. The room remained quiet. The only motion came from the faint sway of the curtain near the window. For a moment the mattress stopped shifting and everything appeared normal again.
Then it moved again.
Not dramatically—just a slow pressure from below, as though someone were pushing upward with a shoulder or knee. The mattress dipped slightly beneath Mia’s back.
My heart started pounding.
“Mia…” I whispered to myself, even though she couldn’t hear me through the camera.
The movement happened again, stronger this time. The mattress lifted slightly in the middle before settling back down.
My mind scrambled for a reasonable explanation.
Maybe the frame was damaged.
Maybe a spring had snapped.
Maybe the new mattress had been installed incorrectly.
But none of those ideas explained what happened next.
The blanket lifted slightly near Mia’s legs.
As if something beneath it had pushed upward.
“Mia,” I said out loud, already getting to my feet.
I grabbed my robe and hurried down the hallway toward her bedroom while still watching the camera feed on my phone.
The door was closed.
The movement inside stopped.
I opened the door slowly.
Mia was still asleep.
The mattress looked completely normal.
