“She’s been having night terrors, Mom. Old trauma from her past. She never wanted to burden anyone, so she hid it. The blood is from her scratching herself in her sleep.”

I felt a wave of relief, but also sadness for Emily. “Oh, Michael. Why didn’t she tell us?”

He sighed. “She was scared, embarrassed. But she’s agreed to see someone now, to get help.”

Tears welled in my eyes, both for Emily’s hidden pain and the strength it took to reveal it. “She’s so brave.”

In the days that followed, Emily started therapy, and gradually, the need to change the sheets every day lessened. We grew closer, our bond strengthened by understanding and empathy. And though the mystery of the blood was solved, it left behind a lesson about assumptions and the unseen battles people face. A reminder that sometimes, what lies beneath is not as frightening as we fear, but a call for compassion and support.