At first, the changes in my apartment seemed harmless. A cabinet door left open, a rug slightly out of place, a light on in a room I barely used. I blamed stress or forgetfulness. Living alone can play tricks on your memory. Still, the pattern continued, and a quiet unease settled in. Instead of panicking, I installed a small indoor camera—not out of fear, but to get clarity.
For two days, nothing happened. I almost felt silly for doubting myself. Then, during a work meeting, my phone buzzed with a motion alert. When I opened the live feed, my stomach dropped. The front door opened, and my landlord walked in with several strangers. They moved casually through my apartment, opening cabinets and pointing at walls as if no one lived there. I called immediately, but no one answered.
That evening, he finally responded. Calmly, he explained he was showing the apartment to potential buyers and assumed it was fine since he had a key. No emergency. No notice. No apology. In that moment, everything clicked—the moved items, the discomfort, the feeling that something wasn’t right.
I documented what happened, reviewed my lease, and sought advice to understand my rights. I demanded proper notice for any future entry and made changes to protect my privacy. The experience taught me a lasting lesson: listening to your instincts isn’t paranoia. A home should feel safe because your boundaries are respected—and because you know how to defend them when they aren’t.