He was guiding her.

He was pushing his mother into our daughter’s room.

I saw his head shadow tilt forward.

He was whispering something into Eleanor’s ear.

He pointed a finger toward Lily’s sleeping form.

Eleanor hesitated.

She shook her head, her shoulders trembling.

Nathan’s hand gripped her shoulder tighter, forcing her a step closer to the bed.

He pulled something out of his pocket with his other hand.

It was a small, black notebook.

He held a silver pen.

He stood in the shadow of the doorway, his eyes fixed on his mother.

He was waiting.

He was watching her reaction.

Eleanor took another step toward Lily’s bed.

She reached out a trembling hand toward my daughter’s face.

I sat up in bed, my thumb hovering over the phone screen.

On the monitor, Eleanor suddenly froze.

She did not touch Lily.

Instead, she slowly turned her head.

She looked directly at the stuffed bear on the shelf.

Her eyes, wide and completely blank, seemed to stare straight through the lens at me.

Beside me in the bed, the blankets shifted.