What started as a normal family arrangement slowly turned into a quiet nightmare we didn’t understand at first. After our mother passed away, our father remarried. On the surface, our stepmother appeared caring and supportive. She cooked for us, spoke kindly in front of others, and played the role well. But inside the house, things began to change.
One by one, we started falling sick in strange ways. It was never serious enough to rush to hospital, but constant enough to worry us. Body weakness. Loss of appetite. Night restlessness. Some of us developed fear and anger without reason.
Doctors ran tests and said nothing was wrong. We were told it was stress or grief. But the sickness followed a pattern. When we stayed away from home, we felt better. When we returned, everything started again. We didn’t want to believe anything bad. After all, this was family. But deep down, something felt wrong.
The house no longer felt safe. Peace disappeared. Even our father started struggling at work and emotionally, without understanding why.
The breaking point came when one of us collapsed after eating food prepared at home. Again, the hospital found nothing. That’s when we knew this was not medical.
