Saqib Majid
Having two young children that require constant care and attention makes being a working parent difficult. My spouse and I have always had to balance our demanding jobs, and we frequently feel like we’re falling behind. When it got to be too much, we hired a nice, upbeat young woman who came highly recommended by a friend to watch the kids. Over the course of the weeks, everything went nicely, and she seemed trustworthy. She was on time, the kids liked her, and we finally had some leeway in scheduling our work.
However, one seemingly typical evening altered everything.
After a hard day at work, I arrived at the door shortly after six o’clock, expecting the usual: toys all over the floor, children watching television, and the sitter grinning wearily at me. Instead, something that made my stomach turn was shown to me. When the babysitter welcomed me, her damp hair caught my attention right away. She was absolutely saturated, like if she had just gotten out of the shower, not just damp.
I inquired as to what had transpired, feeling a little uneasy. A little agitated, she said that she had to wash off the milk that one of the children had spilled all over her. I didn’t agree with her reasoning for some reason. Her story felt a little too prepared, and she didn’t seem quite herself—more anxious than normal.
Then, as I rounded the corner to the kitchen, I spotted my spouse, and it stopped me cold. He stood there drinking coffee as if it were the most commonplace thing in the world. The issue? He should have been at work.
I remained silent at the time. I pretended not to notice how uncomfortable the air seemed all of a sudden. But I was sliding inward. My head was filled with inquiries. He was home, but why? How come he hadn’t told me? Furthermore, why did the babysitter appear to have just stepped out of the shower?
I made an effort to deny the nagging suspicion—to convince myself that I was being overly suspicious. The more I considered it, however, the more it didn’t make sense. Something wasn’t right, and my gut was screaming about it. I didn’t get much sleep that night.
After my husband left for “work” the following morning and the children were still asleep, I dug through the storage closet and found an old nanny cam that we had used when our oldest was a toddler years prior. It was still functional. I placed it covertly in the living room, precisely aiming it to capture the front door, the couch, and the corridor leading to the bedrooms and bathroom.
After that, I went to work.
It had hardly been an hour when I finally succumbed to my panic and looked at my phone’s camera feed. The children playing and the sitter reading a book on the couch initially appeared to be typical. Then, at approximately 9:10 a.m., my heart stopped beating. Slowly, the front door cracked open, and my husband entered.
After taking a cautious check around, he took off his shoes as if he had done it a thousand times. My heartbeat accelerated. What was he doing? He had claimed to be heading to work, but why?
However, I was completely taken aback by what happened next—not in the way I had anticipated, but in a way I never could have imagined.
He stayed away from the babysitter. She actually appeared equally shocked to see him. After a brief exchange of words, he sprinted straight for the toy chest. After a short while, he came out with a box—an old shoebox that we hadn’t used in many years. He pulled something out of it and slipped it beneath his shirt.
In an attempt to identify what it was, I tried to zoom in on the video as much as possible. It appeared to be an envelope or perhaps a bundle of folded papers from the hazy view. Then he was gone as swiftly as he had come—silently, without another word.
I sat there utterly perplexed for a second. This was something very different from the affair that was unfolding in front of me.
That night I went up to him. I filled him in on everything: what I observed, the camera, and how suspicious his actions had been. He was defensive at first. But after a while, he sighed and took a seat.
I was shocked by what he told me.
He had apparently hidden some old papers and private letters in the toy box years before, stuff he never wanted anyone to discover. Those documents were apparently related to a recent message he received from an old acquaintance who had been in some legal issues. He felt embarrassed to have hidden secrets in the first place, which is why he hadn’t wanted to tell me. He had crept in since he didn’t want me or the children to unintentionally find them.
Although it was completely unexpected, I loved the candor. That evening, we spent hours discussing not only the letters but also communication, trust, and the issues that accumulate over time in a marriage.
What about the babysitter? That day, she had truly been let down by someone. The sitter’s clothing and hair were covered with splashes when my kid tripped while holding a cup of milk. Assuming he was working from home that day, she had asked my husband if she could use the shower, and he had readily consented.
It was all a whirlwind of poor timing, careless misunderstandings, and my own brewing nervousness.
Nevertheless, I have no regrets about installing that camera. Not because I didn’t trust them, but because sometimes you have to trust your instincts when they tell you something is wrong. Either a deeper understanding or a confrontation could result from it. For me, it resulted in both.