Matteo had always been a quiet child, but this was different. It started small. Little things that Carmen tried to ignore.
The way he never blinked. The way he never cried, not even when he tripped and scraped his knee. The way he never looked lost or sad—only happy.
Too happy. A perfect little boy. But nothing about this was perfect. And Carmen felt it. Something was wrong.
And it was getting worse. Carmen sat with Matteo in his playroom, trying to bond with him like before.
She watched as he carefully lined up his toy cars, one after the other, in a perfectly straight row.
“Do you want to play together, baby?” she asked gently.
Matteo turned to her slowly. And then, with that same eerie smile, he said—
“I missed you, Mama.”
Carmen’s chest tightened.
She let out a soft, uneasy laugh. “I missed you too, sweetheart.”
Matteo just stared. And then he said it again.
“I missed you, Mama.”
And again.
“I missed you, Mama.”
And again.
“I missed you, Mama.”
Over. And over. And over.
His voice never changed. The same soft tone. The same bright, unblinking smile. Carmen’s breath hitched.
She reached forward, gently stroking his dark curls, searching his face.
“Matteo?” she whispered.
His lips didn’t stop moving.
“I missed you, Mama.”
“I missed you, Mama.”
“I missed you, Mama.”
Carmen felt her skin prickle. A chill wrapped around her spine.
Her hand trembled slightly as she cupped his small cheek, forcing herself to stay calm. “Baby,” she murmured. “You’re scaring me.”
And then—he stopped. The words just cut off, mid-sentence.
Like someone had hit pause. Matteo blinked once, then smiled again.
“Okay, Mama!” he chirped.
And then—he turned away and kept playing. As if the entire thing never happened. Carmen swallowed the lump in her throat. Something was wrong.
Very, very wrong.
That night, Carmen couldn’t sleep. She tossed. Turned. The image of Matteo’s smiling, unblinking face burned into her mind.
Something wasn’t right. She knew it.
So she did something she hadn’t done since Matteo had been taken.
She checked the security cameras. She scrolled through the footage of Matteo’s room, half-expecting to see nothing unusual.
And for a while, that’s exactly what it was. Matteo sleeping peacefully. Matteo playing alone. Matteo walking around the house.
But then—
Her finger froze on the screen. The footage showed Matteo in his room.
Alone.
Except—
He was talking. His lips were moving, his hands gesturing like he was having a full conversation. But there was no one else there. Carmen’s heart dropped. She clicked the audio on.
And what she heard made her blood run cold.
“I know, Mama,” Matteo whispered into the empty space.
“I won’t tell them.”
A pause. A long, agonizing silence.
And then—
“Okay, Mama. I love you too.”
Carmen slammed the laptop shut. Her breathing was too loud in the quiet room.
No.
No, no, no.
She was losing her mind. She had to be. But she knew what she saw. Matteo had been talking to someone. Or something.
She shot up from the chair, rushing down the hallway, her bare feet silent against the cold floor.
She didn’t even knock. She just pushed open Matteo’s door.
The little boy was sitting on his bed, clutching his stuffed animal, his expression peaceful. As if he hadn’t just been talking to nothing.
Carmen’s voice was tight, unsteady.
“Who were you talking to?”
Matteo blinked.
And then—
He smiled. “Who are you talking to, Matteo?” she repeated, her voice straining.
Matteo just shrugged. “No one, Mama.”
But Carmen knew he was lying. She could feel it.
“Matteo,” she said again, her voice firmer. “Tell me the truth.”
Matteo tilted his head, as if considering. Then, still smiling, he said—
“My other Mama.”
Carmen’s stomach dropped. Her fingers clenched into fists.
“What do you mean?” she whispered.
Matteo just blinked up at her, his tiny hands still clutching his stuffed bear. He didn’t answer.
Instead, he reached under his pillow and pulled out a small piece of paper.
Carmen’s hands shook as she took it.
It was written in childish, uneven letters.
“She’s still here.”