A few weeks earlier, we’d installed one of those video doorbells for Mom. Motion-activated, picks up audio too. It was mostly for my peace of mind while I was at school—who’s coming and going, when packages get dropped off, that sort of thing.
That night, once Mark went to bed, I sat at our dining table with a mug of tea and opened the app.
I scrolled to the afternoon clip and hit play.
The video showed the front walkway, the gate, the porch. I heard footsteps on gravel, then the squeak of the gate. Their figures appeared small and warped by the lens.
Then I heard my mother’s voice. Small. Shaky.
“I can’t keep this from my daughter,” she whispered. “She deserves to know what you told me.”
My heart stopped.
There was a pause. Then Alyssa’s voice, low and steady.
A video camera doorbell | Source: Midjourney
“You’re not ready to tell her yet,” she said. “She might… react badly. We should wait a little longer.”
Every hair on my arms stood up.
Mom again, stronger this time. “No. No more waiting. She deserves to know. She’s my daughter.”
I heard a sharp, slow exhale from Alyssa.
“I’m telling you,” she said, “this could change everything.”
“I don’t care,” Mom whispered. “I’m telling her soon.”
The clip ended there.
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