She opened the nursery drawer to pack baby clothes… But nothing had been worn.
Sarah opens the nursery drawer and stares at rows of pristine baby clothes. The tags hang from every onesie, every sleeper, every tiny sock. Six months of careful purchases, all unworn.
Her phone buzzes with a text from her sister.
Emma: How’s little Oliver doing? Haven’t seen pics in a while.
Sarah closes the drawer and walks to the kitchen. The baby formula sits in neat rows inside the pantry, expiration dates approaching fast. She bought three more cans yesterday at the grocery store.
The pediatrician’s office calls while she’s making coffee.
Receptionist: This is Dr. Martinez’s office. We need to reschedule Oliver’s six-month checkup.
Sarah: Actually, we won’t be needing that appointment anymore.
Receptionist: Oh, are you switching practices?
Sarah hangs up without answering.
Her neighbor Mrs. Chen waves from the front yard as Sarah retrieves the mail. The woman approaches the fence separating their properties.
Chen: I never hear the baby crying anymore. Is he sleeping through the night now?
Sarah: He’s been staying with my mother for a few weeks.
Chen: That’s nice. You deserve a break.
The mail contains another stack of baby formula coupons and a reminder card from the hospital where she claimed to deliver. Sarah tears up both and throws them away.
Her husband David returns from his business trip that evening. He sets his suitcase by the door and looks around the quiet house.
David: Where’s Oliver?
Sarah: He’s napping.
David: It’s eight PM. Should I check on him?
Sarah: Don’t wake him up.
David walks toward the nursery anyway. Sarah follows, her heart racing. He pushes open the door to reveal the empty crib, the unused changing table, the pristine mobile hanging motionless above.
David: Sarah, where is our son?
Sarah: He’s with my mother. I told you that.
David: You told the neighbor that. You didn’t tell me anything.
He opens the dresser drawer and finds the clothes with tags still attached. His face changes as he processes what he’s seeing.
David: These have never been worn.
Sarah: I bought them in different sizes. He grows so fast.
David: All of them? Every single piece?
He pulls out his phone and dials a number. Sarah watches as he waits for someone to answer.
David: Mom, it’s David. Is Oliver with you?
The conversation lasts thirty seconds. David’s face goes white as he listens.
David: She says she hasn’t seen any baby. She says we never brought a baby to visit.
Sarah: She’s confused. You know how her memory is.
David: Her memory is fine, Sarah. Where is Oliver?
He opens the baby formula in the kitchen and finds the seals unbroken on every can. The baby food jars show a layer of dust. The bottles in the drying rack have never been used.
David: I’m calling Dr. Martinez.
Sarah: Don’t do that.
David: Why not?
The phone rings twice before the answering service picks up. David explains the situation to the operator, who transfers him to the on-call nurse.
Nurse: I’m looking at our records now. We have no patient named Oliver under your account.
David: That’s impossible. My wife has been taking him for regular checkups.
Nurse: Sir, our system shows your wife called six months ago asking about prenatal care, but she never scheduled any appointments.
David hangs up and stares at Sarah. The silence stretches between them.
David: There is no baby.
Sarah: Of course there is. He’s just sleeping.
David: Show me the birth certificate.
Sarah: It’s being processed.
David: Show me one photo of him.
Sarah pulls out her phone and scrolls through months of pictures. Nursery setups, baby gear, her holding empty blankets. No actual child in any frame.
David: Sarah, you need help.
Sarah: I don’t need anything. Oliver needs his father to come home.
David calls his brother while Sarah sits on the couch, clutching an empty receiving blanket. The conversation happens in whispers from the kitchen.
David: Mike, I need you to come over. Something’s wrong with Sarah.
Twenty minutes later, Mike arrives with his wife Jennifer. They find Sarah in the nursery, rocking an empty bassinet.
Jennifer: Sarah, honey, talk to us.
Sarah: He’s finally asleep. It took hours to get him down.
Jennifer: There’s no baby here, Sarah.
Sarah: Don’t say that. You’ll wake him up.
Mike pulls David aside while Jennifer stays with Sarah.
Mike: How long has this been going on?
David: I think since the miscarriage. But she told everyone we had the baby. I was traveling so much, I believed her updates.
Mike: We need to call someone.
David: I already called Dr. Peterson. She’s coming over.
Dr. Peterson arrives an hour later. She’s been Sarah’s therapist since the pregnancy loss six months earlier. Sarah initially refuses to come out of the nursery.
Peterson: Sarah, I’d like to talk with you.
Sarah: I can’t leave Oliver alone.
Peterson: David can watch him while we talk.
This compromise gets Sarah to the living room. Dr. Peterson sits across from her, speaking in gentle tones.
Peterson: Tell me about Oliver’s routine.
Sarah: He sleeps most of the day now. Very peaceful baby.
Peterson: When did you last feed him?
Sarah: This morning. He’s not eating much lately.
Peterson: Sarah, do you remember losing the pregnancy?
Sarah: That was someone else’s baby. Oliver is fine.
Dr. Peterson explains to David and Mike that Sarah has been experiencing a psychological break since the miscarriage. The elaborate fantasy helped her cope with the loss, but it’s become her reality.
Peterson: She needs immediate care. This level of delusion requires professional intervention.
David: Will she get better?
Peterson: With proper treatment, yes. But it will take time.
Sarah overhears from the kitchen where she’s preparing a bottle.
Sarah: I’m not sick. Oliver needs his feeding.
She holds up an empty bottle, moving it as if feeding an invisible infant. The motion is practiced, natural, completely convincing to her.
Peterson: Sarah, I’d like you to come with me tonight.
Sarah: I can’t leave my baby.
Peterson: David will take excellent care of him.
This reasoning works. Sarah kisses the air above the empty blanket and whispers goodnight. She packs a small bag, including several baby items.
As they leave, Sarah turns back to David.
Sarah: Call me if Oliver needs anything.
David: I will.
The house falls silent after they leave. David and Mike stand in the nursery, surrounded by months of preparation for a child who never existed.
Mike: What do we do with all this?
David: Leave it for now. She’ll need to process this slowly.
David calls Sarah’s sister Emma to explain the situation. The conversation is difficult – Emma had been expecting to meet her nephew for months.
Emma: All those texts about Oliver… none of it was real?
David: She believed it was real. That’s what made it so convincing.
Emma: Is she going to be okay?
David: Dr. Peterson thinks so, with treatment.
The next morning, David removes the baby formula from the pantry and donates it to a local food bank. He leaves the nursery untouched, waiting for Sarah’s return.
Three weeks later, Sarah comes home from the treatment facility. She’s clearer now, able to acknowledge what happened. The grief is raw but real.
Sarah: I’m sorry I put you through that.
David: You were hurting. We’ll get through this together.
Sarah: Can we leave the nursery as it is for now?
David: As long as you need.
They’re starting couples therapy next week. Dr. Peterson says the fantasy was Sarah’s mind protecting her from unbearable loss. Now she has to learn to grieve properly.
Sarah picks up one of the unused onesies and holds it gently.
Sarah: Maybe someday we’ll have a real baby to wear these.
David: Maybe we will.
For the first time in months, they’re talking about the future based on truth instead of fantasy. The healing will be slow, but it’s finally begun.
