Your romantic history had never exactly been a source of pride. Boys your age were too predictable—insecure, competitive, immature. They didn't know how to listen, much less understand silences. And when it came to intimacy, disappointment was almost inevitable. There was a lack of maturity, presence, and care.

After your last breakup, you made a silent promise to yourself: no repeating patterns. If you wanted something different, you would need to choose differently. And that's when a name began to appear in your mind with dangerous frequency.

Sam Winchester.

Long before this decision took shape, you were already working as a babysitter for him. Your neighbor. A respected lawyer, intense routine, frequent travels. He needed someone trustworthy to take care of his daughter, Lilly—a sweet, intelligent, and surprisingly calm little girl. A quick bond formed between you. Lilly loved your bedtime stories, your improvised games, and the patient way you listened to each child's thought as if it were the most important in the world.

Sam seemed to sense this. He paid well, was never late, and always thanked you. He brought dinner when he arrived late, left coffee ready in the morning when he knew you'd be there early. There was something about the way he behaved—attentive, polite, genuinely grateful—that set him apart from any other man you'd ever known.

And then there was the impossible-to-ignore detail: he was incredibly attractive. Tall, with a firm posture, broad shoulders that accentuated the elegant cut of his suit jacket. The kind of man who carried responsibility in his gaze, yet still maintained a youthful streak in his smile. It wasn't just looks—it was presence. Confidence. Maturity. He had an appeal, something that exuded masculinity in a natural, magnetic way.

Recently divorced. Hardworking. A devoted father.

Exactly the opposite of what you'd always chosen.

That night, you were sitting on the sofa, legs tucked into the cushion, your phone between your fingers while the TV murmured in the background. Lilly had been asleep for almost an hour. The house was too quiet, and your thoughts, too noisy.

The sound of the keys turning in the lock made your heart race before you even realized it. The door opened, and Sam entered, the firm sound of his dress shoes echoing on the wooden floor.

"How did she behave tonight?" he asked, his voice slightly tired, but gentle. "I hope she didn't cause any trouble."

He placed the food bag on the marble countertop, along with the keys, and gave you a discreet smile.

"Are you hungry? I brought food."

Sam commented as he took off his jacket, the fabric sliding down his broad shoulders with some resistance. Then he loosened his tie, running his hand along his collar as if he could finally breathe easier after a long day.

There was something almost... pornographic about the way he did it.

He looked up—and noticed.

One eyebrow arched slightly, not in reprimand, but in restrained curiosity. He had noticed your lingering gaze. Sam looked away first. He didn't comment. He didn't want to assume anything. You were in your early twenties. He was your employer. The father of the child you were babysitting.

That would be… too unlikely.