So, I should start by saying that I can’t walk. But my husband has always made sure I never feel like a burden. Our relationship has always been warm and full of love.

But recently, he dropped a bomb on me, saying, “I think we should sleep in separate rooms. I need more freedom while I sleep.” Honestly, I didn’t mind. After everything he’s done for me, it seemed like a small thing.

Then, one night, I woke up to strange noises from his room. Despite the pain, I got into my wheelchair and went to check it out.

When I opened the door, tears instantly welled in my eyes as I saw what was happening.

There he was, standing in the middle of the room, breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his face. The light from the lamp cast eerie shadows on the walls. He looked different—his eyes wide, distant, almost unrecognizable. But that wasn’t what shocked me the most.

He was holding a chair, gripping it tightly like he was preparing to throw it. And all around him, furniture was overturned. The room looked like a storm had passed through it. My heart pounded as I realized he hadn’t heard me come in. He was staring at something I couldn’t see.

I hesitated before whispering, “James? What’s going on?”

His body stiffened, and his head snapped toward me. For a moment, it felt like he didn’t even know who I was. Then, his face softened, and he dropped the chair with a loud thud. He rushed toward me, falling to his knees, his hands shaking as they reached for mine.

“You—You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

“James, what’s happening? Please tell me.”

He ran a hand through his damp hair and let out a heavy sigh. “I didn’t want you to see this. I was trying to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?”

He looked down, avoiding my gaze. Then, in a barely audible voice, he said, “I don’t think I’m alone in this room at night.”

A chill ran down my spine. “What do you mean?”

“It started a few weeks ago. At first, it was just whispers. I thought it was my imagination. Then, things began moving on their own. Small things, at first. A book falling off the shelf, a drawer opening by itself. But tonight…”

His voice cracked. He pointed to the far corner of the room. “Tonight, I saw it.”

I followed his trembling finger but saw nothing but shadows. “Saw what?”

“A figure. It—it looked like a man. But his face… it was hollow, like a mask with empty eyes. He just stood there, staring at me. Then, the room shook. The chair flew across the floor. I tried to fight it, but it was like the air itself was pushing me back.”

I swallowed hard. “James, are you sure you weren’t dreaming?”

“I thought that, too. But I’m awake. And look around you. This isn’t a dream.”

I couldn’t deny that the destruction in the room was real. My rational mind told me there had to be an explanation, but deep down, fear crept into my chest like a thick fog.

I reached for his hand. “We need help. We can’t stay here alone.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes still darting toward the shadows. “Tomorrow, we’ll call someone. But tonight, we should leave this room.”

I agreed without hesitation. He helped push my wheelchair out, making sure to shut the door behind us. As we moved down the hallway toward my room, I felt a cold sensation crawl up my spine, like unseen eyes were watching us.

That night, neither of us slept. James sat awake, gripping my hand tightly, while I stared at the door, waiting. Listening. Wondering.

Had something truly been in that room? Or was my husband slowly losing his mind?

What would you do if you were in my place?