I Accidentally Found a Hidden Nanny Cam in My Bathroom and Went Pale When I Learned Why My 11-Year-Old Son Put It There

Finding the hidden camera tucked under my bathtub was terrifying, and realizing my son had put it there was even worse. But his tearful explanation made me realize he was on a mission to reawaken a part of me I thought was lost forever.

The jigsaw puzzle on our kitchen table had stayed the same for weeks, and I was getting worried. My son, Drake, and I used to love them, but things were much different now.

A puzzle on a table | Source: Pexels

A puzzle on a table | Source: Pexels

These days, he would rush straight to his room after school and shut the door firmly behind him. That is… after coming home later than usual.

I stirred the pasta sauce and checked my phone again: 6:45 p.m. Two hours late, just like yesterday. Through the kitchen window, I watched our neighbors walking their dogs and laughing together.

Our house used to buzz with that kind of energy. Now it felt like Drake and I were living in separate worlds, connected only by quick hellos and leftover dinners. Did this happen to all pre-teens?

A woman concerned | Source: Pexels

A woman concerned | Source: Pexels

A few minutes later, the front door creaked open.

“Hey, Mom.” Drake’s voice floated through the hallway, followed by the thud of his backpack hitting the floor.

“Kitchen,” I called out happily. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

He poked his head around the corner. I saw his messy hair covered by a backward baseball cap. Something about his eyes made me feel like my boy was back, even for just a second.

Boy with a backwards baseball cap | Source: Pexels

Boy with a backwards baseball cap | Source: Pexels

But they soon darted to the floor when I looked at him. I knew something was going on, but I had no idea how to address it. My boy almost seemed older than his few years.

“Sorry I’m late. Chess club ran long.”

“Chess club?” I raised my eyebrows. “Yesterday it was math tutoring. And Tuesday was yearbook committee.”

“Oh yeah, I do all those now.” He shuffled his feet. “Can I eat in my room? Got tons of homework.”

Math book and notebook | Source: Pexels

Math book and notebook | Source: Pexels

I gripped the wooden spoon tighter, accidentally dripping tomato sauce onto the stovetop, and decided enough was enough. “Drake, what’s really going on?” I asked, turning and putting one hand on my hip.

“Nothing! I told you, just busy with school stuff,” he shrugged and moved further into the kitchen. Without meeting my gaze, he grabbed a plate, scooped up some pasta, and disappeared before I could press further.

Pasta dish | Source: Pexels

Pasta dish | Source: Pexels

I sighed and wondered to the heavens for the millionth time if I should intervene. Maybe I wouldn’t get an answer from up above, but I could try to find some of my own.

I checked the hallway, and his door was shut as usual, but he had left his backpack in the living room. It was my chance.

Inside, crumpled between textbooks, I found a piece of paper with an address scrawled in unfamiliar handwriting: “1247 Maple Street. Don’t be late. This is it.”

Backpack on the floor | Source: Unsplash

Backpack on the floor | Source: Unsplash

What was going on? I wondered, horrified.

***

That night, I found myself going through his old baby photos, spread across my bedroom floor like pieces of a life I barely recognized anymore.

There he was, two years old, grinning with spaghetti sauce all over his face. That happy little boy used to tell me everything. Now he barely looked at me.

Toddler covered in spaghetti sauce | Source: Midjourney

Toddler covered in spaghetti sauce | Source: Midjourney

The parent-teacher conference from last week played in my head.

“Drake seems… distracted lately,” Mrs. Peterson had said, sliding his failed math test across her desk. “He’s been falling asleep in class. When he’s awake, he’s always scribbling in his notebook, but it’s not notes from the lesson.”

How could he be getting a grade like that with math tutoring? Was it time to pull the plug on all other clubs?

A math test | Source: Pexels

A math test | Source: Pexels

Either way, I knew sleep wouldn’t come, so I decided to take a shower.

The bathroom was my sanctuary, the one place I could relax and belt out old songs without anyone hearing. Tonight’s selection was “Sweet Child O’ Mine.”

The steam rose around me as I hit the chorus, and I remembered how I used to dream of being on stage.

A woman washing her hair | Source: Pexels

A woman washing her hair | Source: Pexels

Where do we go now?” I sang, letting my voice soar like it used to at the coffee shop open mics when my future hopes were far grander than what reality allowed.

Sadly, those wishes were extinguished the moment, Tom, Drake’s father and my ex, left us for his new family in Seattle.

But now wasn’t the time to dwell on the past again. The present was much more important. I finished cleaning myself up and exited my shower. As I dried my hair, I felt the pull on my ear and heard a clink on my tiled floor.

A woman drying up | Source: Pexels

A woman drying up | Source: Pexels

My earring! I bent down to get it and saw the crystal’s shining light reflecting from just under the bathtub. Except… something else caught my eye.

There, hidden under the edge, was an old nanny cam I used when Drake was a baby. And it was ON. I immediately went pale. But I examined the angle. It would only be recording my feet. I didn’t get it.

Still, my hands shook as I took it and carefully wrapped myself in a towel to march straight to Drake’s room. The sound of his furious typing stopped when I pounded on the door.

A woman holding a small camera | Source: Pexels

A woman holding a small camera | Source: Pexels

“Just a minute!” he called out, and I heard drawers being opened and shut. What in the world?

“Drake, open this door right now!”

Finally, I heard footsteps and the door swung open.

He stood there in his oversized gaming headphones, and his own face turned white as soon as I held up the nanny cam.

A boy with headphones | Source: Pexels

A boy with headphones | Source: Pexels

“Drake, what is this? Why was this hidden in the bathroom?!” I asked, as my anger and bravado turned to extreme worry.

When he remained silent, I gulped and asked, “Have you been… recording me in the bathroom?”

His eyes widened at that. His expression was terrified. “Oh no… Mom, you weren’t supposed to find that. IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK. I can explain!”

“Then start explaining.” I pushed past him into his room and looked at his computer. The screen showed some kind of video editing software. Oh, no! What is he doing?

A laptop on a desk | Source: Pexels

A laptop on a desk | Source: Pexels

But before I could panic more, Drake spoke. “I…” He slumped onto his bed. “You weren’t supposed to find out yet.”

“Find out what? That my son is making videos of…” I couldn’t even say it.

“No! Mom, listen,” he pleaded as tears welled up in his eyes. “Remember when you used to sing at the coffee shop open mics? Before Dad left?”

The question caught me off guard. “What does that have to do with anything?”

A woman looking confused | Source: Pexels

A woman looking confused | Source: Pexels

“You were so happy then. Now you only sing in the shower, when you think no one can hear you.” He wiped his nose with his sleeve. “But you’re still amazing, Mom. I wanted to show you that.”

He reached for his laptop and turned it toward me. His fingers pressed play, and suddenly, the screen showed me… well, a music video.

I saw a sunset over the city and streets filled with people chasing their dreams. But the main part was the soundtrack with my voice, clear and strong. It was playing “My Way.”

A sunset over New York | Source: Pexels

A sunset over New York | Source: Pexels

“I met an old man, Mr. Arthur. I’ve been going to his studio after school,” Drake continued. “He’s been teaching me video editing. I wanted to surprise you for your birthday, show you that you shouldn’t give up on your dreams just because…”

“Because your father left?” The words stuck in my throat.

“He owns all these old instruments, and he lets me practice drums while he teaches me about making videos.” Drake’s words tumbled out faster now. “I’ve been doing extra chores for neighbors to pay for studio time. Mr. Arthur says I have a good eye for it.”

A drum set | Source: Pexels

A drum set | Source: Pexels

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you worry about everything now.” His voice cracked. “Ever since Dad left, it’s like you stopped believing in good surprises. I thought if I could just finish the video, show you how amazing you still are…”

Tears welled and fell before I could stop them. All this time, I’d been so worried about what he was hiding. Never once did I consider he might be worried about me too.

A woman crying | Source: Pexels

A woman crying | Source: Pexels

“You could have just talked to me,” I said softly, wrapping my arms around him.

“Would you have listened?” He looked up at me, suddenly seeming older than 11. “You always say you’re fine, but I hear you crying sometimes. And you never sing anymore, except in the shower.”

I pulled him close, feeling his thin shoulders shake. “I’m sorry, baby. I guess we’ve both been keeping too many things inside.”

We stayed in silence for a few minutes before I remembered something. “Oh! Is Mr. Arthur’s studio on 1247 Maple Street?”

A music studio | Source: Midjourney

A music studio | Source: Midjourney

“Yes!” Drake said, but then frowned. “How did you know?”

“In the interest of honesty…” I began and confessed to rummaging through his backpack. Shockingly, we just laughed at each other.

***

The next day, we visited Mr. Arthur’s studio together. He turned out to be a gentle giant with calloused hands and kind eyes, surrounded by dusty guitars and vintage recording equipment.

Music equipment | Source: Pexels

Music equipment | Source: Pexels

“Your boy’s got talent,” he told me and showed me more of Drake’s videos. “And so do you.”

And now that the secrets were out, Drake and I finally finished the jigsaw puzzle together. I also sang outside the shower for the first time in years.

What’s more, next week, I’m singing at the coffee shop again. My son will be there, recording every moment. This time, I won’t be afraid of a little camera.

A woman singing a microphone | Source: Pexels

A Doctor Turns Away a Poor Girl in Labor at the Entrance of an Upscale Clinic

The doctor gave her a stern glance. “Well, miss, if you want to be admitted, you need to pay. But after seeing your condition, I don’t think you can afford the treatment here!”

“But doctor, please…”

Before Anna could complete her sentence, the doctor cut her off. “Can you please stop shouting! I don’t care whether you die in pain! Remember, no money, no treatment. And if you continue acting like this, I will kick you out of here!”

Anna was about to give birth on the doorstep. She thought of requesting the doctor once again, but before she could say anything, he slammed the clinic door in her face and went inside.

Dejected, Anna decided to go to another hospital. However, the pain was so intense that she couldn’t move a bit. So she just sat there, gripping her stomach and looking for someone to assist her.

Luckily, a kind doctor came out of the clinic and offered her help. “Please come with me, ma’am,” he told Anna as he approached her. “I’ll save your child no matter what!” With that, the doctor escorted her inside, set up a separate ward for her, and ensured that Anna’s delivery went smoothly.

Not long after, Anna delivered a baby boy, but the baby was premature and had to be placed in the NICU immediately.

Poor Anna was so exhausted after the delivery that she didn’t wake up until the next morning when she discovered the obnoxious doctor by her side. “What the hell? Since when did this clinic start admitting beggars like you?!” He looked at her angrily.

“Anyway, It’s not too late to clean the mess. So get up and get out of the hospital!” he added and started “escorting” Anna out of the hospital.

Luckily, at that moment, the kind doctor, Dr. Paul Warner, came in. “Dr. Morgan, what are you doing? She gave birth yesterday, and she’s still weak!” he retorted.

Dr. Morgan gave a fierce glance to Dr. Warner. “Stay out of this, Paul! I’m your senior, and I know what’s best for the clinic. We can’t admit her without the fees! That’s a rule!”

“If that’s the case, I’ll pay her fees,” Dr. Warner said firmly. “But I’m not letting her leave until she and her baby recover completely!”

Dr. Morgan burst out laughing. “You’re such a knucklehead, Paul. I don’t think your bank account will allow it!”

“You don’t need to worry about that doctor,” Dr. Warner continued. “I will pay the bills by tomorrow morning. Mark my words!”

“Alright! But if you’re not able to pay the fees, I’ll kick her out,” Dr. Morgan almost yelled and walked away.

The next day, Anna was on her way to the washroom when she met Dr. Morgan again. “I checked with the accounts department, and the payment hasn’t been made. So pack your bags and get out of this place ASAP!” he ordered her.

“Doctor, just give me until the afternoon. My husband is on his way, and he’ll take care of everything,” Anna assured him.

Dr. Morgan sighed and rolled his eyes. “Do you really want me to believe that? Aren’t you just making up excuses so that you can stay here?”

“Well, doctor, if I’m making excuses, you can throw me out of here in the afternoon!” Anna said firmly and walked away.

To Dr. Morgans’ surprise, Anna’s husband actually showed up at the clinic that afternoon. But when Dr. Morgan saw him, he couldn’t believe his eyes!

“Mr. Carter, you?” he inquired, surprised.

“Yes, David. It’s me. My wife told me everything, and I can’t believe you treated a pregnant woman like that!”

It turned out that Anna was going to give birth in Germany, but her labor began early while her husband was away on a business trip. Anna considered approaching this luxury clinic for assistance because her husband was the primary sponsor there.

Since the pain was severe, she didn’t waste time changing her clothes and went there in her nightgown, forgetting her phone in the process. Dr. Warner kindly offered her his phone, allowing her to contact her husband.

When Dr. Morgan saw her outside the hospital, he mistook her for a poor woman and threatened to kick her out. But now that Dr. Morgan knew Anna wasn’t any random woman asking for help, he realized he had invited huge trouble for himself.

“I had no idea she was your wife, Sir,” Dr. Morgan said quietly. “I apologize for the mistreatment. ”

“How does it matter, David?” Mr. Carter almost yelled at him. “How can you behave like that with any pregnant woman!”

“Well, Sir. I won’t…”

Before Dr. Morgan could finish, Mr. Carter cut him off. “No, David. Nothing can explain what you did. And you should be punished for it. Therefore, I’m firing you! I hope this way you’ll learn your lesson.”

“But Sir, then the maternity ward won’t have a head doctor. Moreover, there aren’t many senior doctors here, and it may take the clinic some time to find one!” Dr. Morgan expressed his thoughts. “So, at the very least, let me stay here till then!”

Mr. Carter smiled at him. “You don’t need to worry about that, doctor! I have appointed someone as the head already,” he said and called Dr. Warner inside. “Let me introduce you to Dr. Warner, the new head.”

Dr. Morgan was shocked. “But Sir, he’s still young, and he’s inexperienced!”

“Well, he deserves to be a doctor and the head, considering how he decided to aid a pregnant woman without considering her status or whether she would have money!”

Dr. Morgan didn’t utter a word. He stood silently with his head bowed down.

Mr. Carter continued. “I don’t think you qualify as a doctor, David. A doctor would always try their best to save a patient! So, please leave and don’t come back here ever again!”

Dr. Morgan walked out of the clinic, embarrassed by what he’d done.

What can we learn from this story?

Don’t judge a book by its cover.
Learn to be humble and kind like Dr. Warner.
Good people always get goodness in return.

Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.

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