Finding the hidden camera under my bathtub was terrifying. Realizing my son had put it there was even worse—until his tearful explanation changed everything.Lately, my son Drake had been distant. He came home late, shut himself in his room, and barely spoke. I noticed the puzzle we used to work on together had been sitting untouched for weeks.

One night, while making dinner, I pressed him about his mysterious after-school activities. “Chess club,” he said. But each day, it was a different excuse. Suspicious, I peeked into his backpack and found a note with an address: “1247 Maple Street. Don’t be late.”Later that night, I sang in the shower like I used to—“Sweet Child O’ Mine” echoing off the tiles. As I dried off, my earring fell under the tub. When I reached for it, I found something chilling: our old nanny cam, turned on.

Shaking, I stormed to Drake’s room. His face turned pale when he saw the camera in my hand.Drake, were you recording me?”“It’s not what you think!” he cried. Then, he showed me a video he’d made—my shower singing, turned into a beautiful music montage.I’ve been going to a video studio after school,” he confessed. “I wanted to surprise you for your birthday, show you that you’re still amazing.”

He explained how he learned editing, practiced drums, and paid for lessons by doing chores—all to remind me of who I was before his dad left.Tears filled my eyes. “You could’ve just told me.”Would you have listened?” he asked gently.We hugged, both of us finally opening up.The next day, we visited Mr. Arthur’s studio. He showed me Drake’s work and encouraged me to sing again.That night, we finished the puzzle together—and next week, I’ll be singing at the coffee shop again, with my son proudly recording every note.