I’m a single mother of two young children – the housework was always done at night, and then I finally saw it with my own eyes.

Two days later, it happened again.

I opened the refrigerator to get some milk for Jeremy’s cereal and I froze.

There were provisions inside that I certainly hadn’t bought.

A carton of fresh eggs. A loaf of bread. A bag of apples.

These are all things I intended to buy but hadn’t had time to do.

“Has Grandma been by?” I asked Jeremy as he sat down in his chair.

He shook his head, his mouth full of cereal.

My stomach churned.

I opened the refrigerator to get some milk for Jeremy’s cereal and I froze.

My parents live three states away from us, and my neighbors are nice, but not the type to want to come into my house and fill my fridge.

And I’m the only one who has a key.

A few days later, I noticed that the bin had been taken out and replaced with a new bag.

Then the sticky stains on the kitchen table, the ones I had been meaning to scrub off for a week… had disappeared.

My coffee maker, which I never had time to clean properly, was sparkling clean and already set with a fresh filter.

I started questioning everything.

Was I losing my mind? Was it some kind of stress-induced memory loss?

I started questioning everything.

I thought about buying a surveillance camera, but I couldn’t afford it at the moment.

So I decided to wait.

Last night, after putting the children to bed and checking that their bedroom doors were properly closed, I took a blanket and hid behind the living room sofa.

I set an alarm on my phone for every hour, just in case I doze off.

At 2:47 a.m., I heard it.

The soft click of the rear door.

I didn’t move, I was barely breathing when the sound of footsteps could be heard… slowly, cautiously, as if someone was trying not to wake anyone.

My heart was beating so fast that I thought the person standing there might hear it.

At 2:47 a.m., I heard it.

The soft click of the rear door.