My daughter-in-law changed the sheets every single day, absolutely every day, and each time said she was just allergic to dirt — until one day I lifted the blanket and saw a brown stain underneath… 
When my son married Emily, I was genuinely happy. She seemed perfect — calm, polite, patient. She never argued, always smiled, helped around the house, and thanked me for every little thing. Everyone said I was lucky to have such a daughter-in-law, and I agreed.
After the wedding, they moved into a small guest house next to mine. I wanted them to have their own space, but at the same time to be close by in case they needed help. On the surface, everything seemed fine.
Almost.
But one strange thing began to worry me. Every morning, Emily stripped the bed completely. Everything — sheets, pillowcases, duvet cover. Everything went straight into the washing machine. Sometimes she did it in the evening too. Day after day. Without exception.
At first, I thought she simply loved cleanliness. But over time, it started to seem… abnormal.
One day, I asked her carefully:
— Emily, why do you wash the bedding every day? You’ll exhaust yourself like this.
She smiled as she wrung out a wet sheet.
— It’s fine. I sleep poorly if the bed isn’t completely fresh.
She said it calmly, but something strange flickered in her eyes. Fear. Or anxiety. I didn’t like it. The sheets were new, clean, no dust. I decided not to press her and stayed silent.
Several weeks passed. Nothing changed.
One Saturday, I said I was going to the market. I made sure Emily saw me get into the car and drive away. In reality, I parked around the corner and quietly came back.
When I entered the guest house, a smell immediately alarmed me. Heavy, metallic. I walked up to the bed and lifted the sheet.
And froze.
The mattress was covered in dark brown stains. Old ones. Deeply soaked in. There were far too many to explain as an accident.
I felt nauseous. My heart started pounding wildly. Why were there marks like that on their bed? And why was Emily hiding it so carefully?
From the kitchen came her soft humming, as if nothing were happening. My hands were shaking as I stepped back.
At that moment, I understood: my perfect daughter-in-law was hiding something.
And the truth was far more terrifying than I could have imagined… Continuation in the first comment 
That same evening, I asked her directly.
She turned pale. Her hands began to tremble. She sat down on the edge of the bed and stayed silent for a long time, staring at the floor.
— Please… — she whispered. — Don’t tell anyone.
Then she slowly lifted the sleeve of her pajamas. I felt everything inside me tighten.
On her skin were thin, almost neat cuts. Old and new. Some had already faded, others were still red. She quickly pulled the sleeve back down, as if she were ashamed even that I had seen it.
— It happens at night, — she said quietly. — When I think everyone is asleep. When it gets too loud inside.
She said she smiled during the day not because she was happy, but because she was afraid of being a burden. Afraid of seeming weak. Afraid that if she admitted the truth, she would no longer be loved.
She said that every night she fought with herself. Sometimes she lost. Sometimes she woke up covered in blood and, in panic, ran to the bathroom, washed the sheets, scrubbed the mattress until her hands began to hurt.
— I don’t want him to know, — Emily whispered. — He thinks I’m strong. And if he finds out the truth… what if he leaves?
I looked at this young woman and suddenly understood: all those daily washings were not about cleanliness. They were about a desperate attempt to preserve the appearance of a normal life. They were about fear. About pain that cannot be spoken aloud.
