Every evening, without fail, my new daughter-in-law, Daniela, would disappear into the bathroom right after dinner — and stay there for over an hour. The sound of running water never seemed to stop, and afterward, a strange scent lingered in the air. It wasn’t her usual perfume — it was sharper, almost medicinal.
At first, I brushed it off as a harmless quirk. But soon, it began to feel… unsettling. Daniela had only been married to my son, Leonardo, for three months. She was kind, polite, everything a mother could hope for in a daughter-in-law. Still, her nightly ritual troubled me.
At exactly 8 p.m., the pattern repeated: she locked the bathroom door, turned on the shower, and didn’t emerge until nearly nine. Her hair was damp when she came out — yet the bathroom was never steamed up. The strange, minty scent always lingered long after.
One evening, I noticed something new — a discarded hygiene wipe in the trash, its mint smell unusually strong. A chill crept up my spine. Was someone else in the house? Or was Daniela hiding something more serious?
While Leonardo was away on a work trip, I decided to find out. I discreetly placed a small camera in the hallway, aimed at the bathroom door. But each time Daniela entered, the screen went black. The footage cut out — as if something were interfering with it.
Growing uneasy, I pressed my ear to the door one evening. The water wasn’t running steadily — it came on and off in short bursts. Then, beneath the splashes, I heard voices.
And then — clear as day — a man’s voice said,
“Yes, wait a moment. I’m coming.”
My blood ran cold. No one else was supposed to be in that bathroom.
Heart pounding, I grabbed the phone and called the police. I explained everything — the strange noises, the voice, the locked door. The dispatcher told me to stay calm and wait inside until officers arrived.
Minutes stretched into eternity. I sat in the living room, staring at the bathroom door, every sound amplified by fear.
When the doorbell finally rang, I nearly jumped. I let the officers in and hurriedly explained the situation. They moved down the hallway, their footsteps measured and tense.
One officer knocked on the bathroom door.
“Police! Is anyone in there?”
Silence. Only the slow drip of water echoed back.
The officers exchanged glances. The air in the house felt heavy — as if we were all holding our breath — waiting for whatever was about to happen next.
