Eventually I sat on the couch with my phone in my lap, running through every neighbor, every parent from daycare, every man I’d ever met named Tom.
Nothing.
It had to be Ellie’s imagination.
Then, at 1:13 a.m., I heard it.
The faintest sound somewhere down the hallway. A soft tap—like a single knuckle barely brushing glass.
Once.
Then silence.
I sat completely frozen, telling myself it was a tree branch. The house settling. Anything except what my instincts were screaming.
By the time I finally forced myself down the hallway, Ellie’s room was quiet.
The hallway was empty.
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