My husband worked night shifts, and one evening, I heard the front door creak open. I called out, expecting him, but there was only silence. A chill crawled up my spine.
In the dim light, I saw a figure standing in the living room, back turned. My heart pounded as I whispered, “Who are you?” Slowly, the figure turned…
It was my husband. Still in his work clothes. Still… smiling.
Relief hit me—until I heard footsteps behind me.
“Babe? Why are you down here in the dark?”
I froze.
That was his voice. Behind me.
My breath caught as I turned slowly. There he was—my husband—standing at the bottom of the stairs, keys in hand, confusion written all over his face.
I looked back at the man in the living room.
Gone.
Nothing but darkness.
“No one came in,” my husband said, trying to calm me. “The door was locked.”
But I knew what I saw.
That night, neither of us slept.
The next morning, we checked the security camera.
At 2:13 AM, the door opened by itself.
And someone walked in.
It looked exactly like my husband… but his face—when he turned toward the camera—wasn’t human.
We moved out a week later.
But sometimes, late at night, I still hear the door creak open.
