The Intruder
It started subtly — a chair out of place, a photo frame turned sideways.
Living alone, I blamed forgetfulness, but the changes grew daily.
To be sure, I took photos each night and compared them in the morning.
Things had undeniably moved, though every door was locked. My peaceful home had turned uneasy.
I installed security cameras. For nights, nothing happened — until one recording revealed a person quietly walking through my living room, rearranging objects with deliberate care.
It wasn’t a ghost. Someone was inside my home. I called the police and stayed away while they investigated.
Watching the live feed from a café, I saw the intruder return. Police arrived quickly, and no one was harmed.
When identified, the person turned out to be someone I once trusted — a heartbreaking revelation that brought both pain and closure.
In the aftermath, I replaced locks, rebuilt trust, and leaned on friends.
What began as fear became a lesson in safety, forgiveness, and the fragile peace we often take for granted.
