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A knock on their bedroom door woke her. She had her eyes open, but cannot see a thing because of the dark.

“Mommy? Daddy?”

She grabbed her phone and used it as a source of light. “Oh, honey,” she said, seeing her eight-year-old son’s scared face in the dim light.

Daddy was awake as well and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m scared… and I’m alone in my room… can I sleep with you tonight?” he squeaked.

She shared a look with her husband before saying, “Of course you can. Come here.” He climbed in, and sleep came to the three of them afterwards.

Over breakfast the next morning, she asked her son how he’s feeling. “I’m okay,” he said casually.

Daddy explained. “Son, you’re turning nine in three weeks, and that’s past the age of being scared of monsters under your bed. You ought to sleep in your own room and be the brave boy that you are, understand?”

At first their son looked very confused—and then he turned pale and went still before saying, “But Daddy… I didn’t leave my room last night.”


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