Megan opened her eyes.
Calmly.
No fear.
No surprise.
Like she expected it.
Rage surged through me.
I was about to jump up—
When I heard her whisper:
“Not tonight, Dad… please… not tonight.”
Dad.
Everything inside me froze.
The figure stepped closer.
Megan sat up slowly.
“Dad… go back to your room. I’m okay.”
I grabbed the flashlight and turned it on.
The beam cut through the darkness.
And the truth… was nothing like I expected.
It wasn’t a lover.
Not a stranger.
Not a threat.
It was an old man.
Tall, frail, messy white hair, mismatched pajamas.
Barefoot.
Holding a worn photograph in his trembling hands.
It took me a second to recognize him.
Then my breath caught.
“Mr. Whitaker…”
My father-in-law.
Megan’s dad.
I had been told he was in a care facility.
For months.
But here he was.
In my bedroom.
At 1 a.m.
“What is going on?” I demanded.
Megan stepped in front of him.
“Don’t scare him!”
The old man looked at her, confused.
“Lily…” he murmured.
Lily—his late wife.
Dead five years.
Megan closed her eyes.
“Dad… it’s me. Megan. Come on.”
Then I realized something.
“Wait… he’s been here? Living here?”
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