It started like this:
Sarah and Daniel had just welcomed their first baby — a boy named Noah.
Like every new parent, they were exhausted.
So when a kind, soft-spoken woman named Claire applied for the babysitting job, she felt like a blessing.

She came with glowing references, a gentle smile, and a calm voice that instantly soothed the baby.
Noah loved her.
Every time she held him, he’d stop crying.
Every time she sang, he’d fall asleep.
For months, everything seemed perfect.

But then, something strange started happening.
Every night, exactly 3:15 a.m., Noah would wake up screaming.
No matter what they tried — lullabies, feeding, rocking him — he’d cry until his little face turned red.
Claire said maybe it was teething.

Or maybe he was just getting used to his crib.
But then one night, Sarah — half asleep — heard something through the baby monitor.
It wasn’t crying.
It was a woman’s voice.

Soft. Calm. Whispering:
“Don’t cry… Mommy’s here now.”
Sarah froze.
Because she was in bed.
And Daniel was right beside her.

She ran to the nursery — but by the time she got there, Noah was sleeping peacefully.
The rocking chair was still moving.
And the window was slightly open.
The next morning, Claire came in smiling, as if nothing happened.
But Sarah couldn’t shake that voice from her head.

So that night, she did something she’d never done before —
She turned on the baby monitor’s recording mode.
And what she heard the next day…
changed everything.

The next morning, Sarah waited until Claire left before pressing play.
The recording started with Noah crying — normal.
Then footsteps.
Then Claire’s voice.
“Don’t cry… Mommy’s here now. Mommy missed you.”
Sarah’s breath caught.
But it got worse.
“Shh… don’t tell them I’m here, okay? They don’t understand. You’re my baby now.”
Sarah’s hands trembled.
She called Daniel, who came home immediately.
Together, they went through the rest of the recording — and what they heard made their blood run cold.
Claire wasn’t just whispering to Noah.
She was talking to someone else.
Another baby.
“Do you see him, sweetie? Isn’t he beautiful? He looks just like you did before you went away…”
Daniel turned pale.
He checked the camera footage — and saw Claire sitting on the nursery floor, holding Noah, but also cradling something invisible in her other arm.
Talking to it. Smiling.
That’s when they called the police.
When officers arrived, they searched Claire’s bag — and found a small blue blanket, a worn-out pacifier, and a silver locket with a photo of a baby boy inside.
The back of the photo read:
“Ethan — 2023–2024.”
The same age as Noah.
Police ran a background check.
And that’s when the truth came out.
A year ago, Claire had lost her own baby in a house fire.
Neighbors said she went silent after that — stopped working, stopped talking to anyone.
Then, six months later, she moved to a new town… and started looking for babysitting jobs.
The detective told Sarah and Daniel quietly,
“She wasn’t trying to hurt your son. She was trying to replace hers.”
But what no one knew — not yet — was how far she was willing to go to make that happen.

The police told them to stay alert.
They said Claire would likely move on after being fired.
But she didn’t.
Three nights later, at 3:15 a.m., the baby monitor turned on by itself.
Static first. Then the soft hum of a lullaby.
The same one Claire used to sing.
Sarah sat up, terrified.
Daniel grabbed a flashlight and ran to the nursery.
The crib was empty.
The window — open.
The curtain blowing in the cold night air.
Panic. Screaming. Flashlights.
They searched the yard — nothing.
But then, the neighbor across the street saw movement near the woods and called 911.
When police arrived, they found Claire sitting under a tree — cradling Noah in her arms, rocking him gently.
She was humming.
Whispering.
“It’s okay, Ethan. Mommy found you again.”
Noah was safe.
But Claire didn’t resist when police took her away.
She just kept repeating one line over and over:
“He came back to me. He knows who I am.”

Claire was sent to a psychiatric hospital.
Doctors said she was living with post-traumatic psychosis — her mind had created a fantasy where her lost baby still existed, and every child she cared for became “him.”
When detectives searched her apartment, they found an entire nursery — set up exactly like the one she lost in the fire.
Same color walls.
Same blanket.
Even the same mobile spinning slowly above an empty crib.
And on the wall, written in faint pencil:
“If I love them enough… he’ll come back.”
Months passed.
Sarah and Daniel moved away, trying to forget.
But every night, when the clock hits 3:15 a.m., Sarah still wakes up — just to check the monitor.
Just to make sure Noah’s still there.
And sometimes…
she swears she hears a faint whisper through the static.
“Don’t cry… Mommy’s here now.”
 Be careful who you trust with what you love.

THE END