, but something strange bothered me. The blanket on my side was missing. I sat up slowly and rubbed my eyes. Then I looked toward the couch in the corner of the room.

Someone was lying there.

At first, I thought it was my husband who had moved, but he was right beside me. I reached for my phone and turned on the flashlight. The light fell on the person on the couch. My breath caught. It was his younger sister, Adaeze, wearing my nightdress. Not only that, she was wrapped in the blanket from my side of the bed.

She looked peaceful, like she was meant to be there. Like she owned the place.

My voice shook as I whispered her name. She opened her eyes slowly and looked at me without shame. She did not even stand up. She smiled a little and said she got cold in the guest room. She said my nightdress was soft and she liked it. Then she said the bed was too comfortable, so she slept on my side for a moment before moving to the couch.

Nothing made sense. I asked her why she did not wake me. I asked why she entered my wardrobe. I asked why she touched my things without permission. She looked at me with bold eyes. She said I should not complain because we were “family,” and family shares things.

I stepped back. Her tone sounded strange. Too confident. Too entitled. I went back to the bed and tapped my husband’s shoulder. I told him to wake up because I needed him to see what I saw. When he opened his eyes and looked around, he frowned. He asked his sister what she was doing in our room at that hour.

She refused to answer. She stood up slowly and walked toward the bed. She went straight to the side where I slept and touched the pillow. She breathed in deeply like she was smelling it. My chest tightened. My husband sat up quickly and asked her again what she was doing. She said the room felt peaceful and she wanted to rest there.

That sentence raised every hair on my body.

My husband told her to go back to the guest room. She walked out slowly, dragging her feet like a child being scolded. She left the blanket and the nightdress on the couch. When the door closed, I sat on the bed shaking. My husband said I should not worry. He said his sister was stressed and needed attention.

Morning came with more trouble.

Adaeze refused to greet me. She walked around the house like the owner. She went to my kitchen cabinets and rearranged my plates. She opened my wardrobe again and removed one of my gowns. She held it against her body and smiled in the mirror. I asked her to put it back. She stared at me like I was the stranger.

When my husband came back from buying fuel, I told him everything she did. He sighed and said she only behaved like that because she admired me. He said she copied people she admired. His words made me angry because he refused to see the problem.

That night, I locked our bedroom door before sleeping.

Around 2 a.m., I heard someone scratching the door. My husband was fast asleep, so I stood up and listened. The scratching continued. Then a soft knock followed. I asked who it was. Adaeze said she wanted to sleep inside our room because she could not sleep alone. My body went cold. I told her to go back to her room.

She started crying loudly. My husband woke up and opened the door before I could stop him. Adaeze rushed inside and sat on my side of the bed again. She covered herself with my wrapper. My husband tried to calm her, but she refused to move. She said she felt safest on my side.

I stood there speechless. Something about her behavior was not normal.

The next morning, I told my husband I needed space. I told him his sister needed help. He finally agreed. He called their mother and explained everything. His mother arrived in the afternoon and spoke to Adaeze privately.

After some hours, the truth came out.

Adaeze said she believed I “stole” her brother from her. She said she wanted to “take back her place” in his life. She said if she slept where I slept and wore what I wore, she would feel close to him again. She said she hated how marriage changed everything.

Hearing those words shocked the entire family.

Her mother apologized and took her away for therapy. My husband apologized too. He said he did not know she was struggling mentally. I wanted to be angry, but I felt more scared than angry. The way she watched me those nights still sits in my mind.

If you woke up and saw someone wearing your clothes and sleeping on your side of the bed, how would you react.