Part1 :The Midnight Visitor: A Strange Offer
It was just past eleven when the knock came.
You weren’t expecting anyone—especially not at this hour. The baby, only a few months old, had finally settled into sleep after a long, fussy evening. You hesitated, peering through the peephole.
There stood a woman you’d never seen before.
She was tall, her dark hair pulled tightly back, and she wore a long coat that seemed too heavy for the mild spring night. Her face was pale, her eyes unusually bright—almost glowing.
Something about her sent a chill down your spine, but you couldn’t quite place why.
You cracked the door open just enough to be heard.
“Yes? Can I help you?”
“Good evening,” she said, her voice smooth as silk but somehow distant. “I’m here about the babysitting position.”
You frowned.
You hadn’t posted about needing a babysitter. You hadn’t told anyone.
“I think there’s been a mistake,” you began, but she interrupted.
“No, I’m sure. It’s for your baby, isn’t it?”
She smiled—too wide, too knowing.
You felt your heart quicken.
“How did you know?”
“Oh, word gets around,” she said, stepping closer. “I have excellent references. And I have a special way with children.”
You glanced behind you, toward the nursery.
The baby was safe, asleep, but something about this woman made you want to lock the door and never open it again.
“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice firmer. “I’m not looking for a babysitter right now.”
She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing.
“Are you sure?”
Her voice had changed—lower, almost a growl.
You felt a sudden, inexplicable fear.
“Yes, I’m sure. Please leave.”
For a moment, she just stared.
Then, without another word, she turned and walked away.
You watched her disappear into the night, her coat billowing behind her.
You closed the door and locked it, your hands shaking.
You checked on the baby—still sleeping peacefully, nothing out of the ordinary.
But as you returned to the living room, you noticed something on the floor by the door:
A single, silver button, cold to the touch.
You picked it up, turning it over in your hands.
It wasn’t yours.
And you knew, somehow, that this wasn’t over.
The next morning, you found a note slipped under your door.
It read:
“I’ll be back when you’re ready. Your baby is special. Don’t forget.”
Part2 :The Return of the Midnight Visitor
A few days after the unsettling encounter, you realized you had no choice—you needed to return to work, and your little one required a babysitter. The agency you contacted promised a reliable, experienced caregiver, and you tried to push aside your lingering unease.
On the appointed day, you heard a gentle knock at the door.
Opening it, your breath caught in your throat.
Standing there was the same woman from before—her sharp features, her knowing smile, and those unsettlingly bright eyes.
She held out a badge and a letter of recommendation from the agency.
“Hello again,” she said, her voice smooth as ever. “It’s good to see you. I’m Ms. Elara.”
You hesitated, but the agency’s paperwork checked out.
She had references, glowing reviews, and all the necessary clearances.
Still, your instincts screamed to send her away.
But you had to return to work.
You had no other options.
“Come in,” you said reluctantly, stepping aside.
Ms. Elara moved gracefully through your home, her eyes lingering on the baby’s room.
“He’s sleeping?” she asked, though you hadn’t mentioned the baby’s gender.
You nodded, swallowing hard.
“How did you know it’s a boy?”
She smiled.
“Just a lucky guess.”
You showed her around, explaining routines, feeding times, and emergency contacts.
She listened intently, nodding at all the right moments.
But her gaze kept drifting to the window, as if she was watching for something—or someone.
As you gathered your things to leave, you felt a tug of guilt and fear.
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” you asked, more for your own reassurance than hers.
Ms. Elara turned to you, her smile widening.
“Of course. I’ll take excellent care of him. He’s in good hands.”
You forced a smile and left, but your heart pounded all the way to the office.
The Decision
You waited for your husband to come home, your hands shaking as you recounted everything—the strange lady, the neighbors’ warnings, the crushed chapatis, and your baby’s odd new habits.
“We have to let her go,” you said firmly. “I don’t care if we have to pay her for the whole month. I just want her out of our house.”
Your husband nodded, his face grim. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow. We’ll pay her what we owe and tell her we won’t be needing her services anymore.”
That night, you checked on your baby again and again, watching for any sign of the silvery mark or that strange glow. He slept peacefully, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
The Confrontation
The next morning, Ms. Elara arrived as usual, her smile serene and unreadable.
Your husband greeted her at the door, his voice calm but firm.
“Ms. Elara, we appreciate your help, but we’ve decided to make other arrangements. Here’s your payment for the days you’ve worked.”
She took the envelope, her eyes flickering with something unreadable.
“Is everything all right?” she asked, her voice smooth but edged with something sharp.
“Everything’s fine,” your husband replied. “We just want to try something different.”
Ms. Elara nodded slowly, her gaze drifting to the baby’s room.
“Very well. If you ever need me again, you know where to find me.”
She turned to leave, but at the doorway, she paused.
“He’s a special child,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. “Take good care of him.”
With that, she was gone.
You and your husband exchanged a look of relief, but as you closed the door, you noticed something on the floor—a single, silver button, just like before.
What Happens Next?
The days that followed were quiet, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that Ms. Elara wasn’t truly gone.
Your baby seemed happy and healthy, but every now and then, you’d catch him staring at the window, as if waiting for someone.
React
