The clock ticked past midnight in the dimly lit master bedroom, the only sounds the soft rhythm of Sarah's breathing from her side of the king-sized bed and the faint hum of the air conditioner. Emily had slipped in earlier that evening, her voice trembling with feigned fear as she clutched her pillow.

'Mom, Dad, I had a nightmare,' she'd whispered, eyes wide and innocent under the hallway light. Sarah, ever the doting mother, had patted the mattress between them. 'Of course, sweetie. Come here.' Mark had grunted his agreement, shifting over to make space, though his gaze had lingered on Emily's thin tank top and sleep shorts—outfits that hugged her curves a little too snugly for comfort.