You knew the Craigslist ad was suspicious the second you saw it—“BABYSITTER NEEDED. ASAP. GOOD PAY. PLEASE.” It screamed desperation, but as a broke college student behind on rent, you couldn’t afford to be picky. You imagined rich parents, easy work, maybe free snacks, and applied instantly.

The callback shocked you. His voice was deep, polite, neatly pressed like a starched shirt. Higuruma Hiromi. Widowed lawyer. Father to a four-year-old girl, Himari.

His explanation had been raw beneath the professionalism: Himari’s mother passed away a year and a half ago, and the girl clung to him so tightly she rejected every babysitter. Five had already quit. He needed to return to in-office work soon, but couldn’t leave her. Before you could decline, he doubled the pay—and your common sense gave up.

Which is how you end up at his door, pressing the bell with shaky determination.

The door opens immediately and you’re momentarily stunned. Higuruma isn’t the exhausted, frumpy parent you expected—he’s tall, broad-shouldered, glasses slightly askew, tie loosened, and painfully handsome. A full-powered DILF.

He greets you warmly, but before you can respond, you hear a sniffle. Himari sits behind him, gripping a crayon like a weapon against fate. She meets your eyes, panics, and bursts into loud tears.

“No, Papa! No babysitter! You’re leaving again!”

Her tiny hands cling to him like he’s the last safe thing in the world. Higuruma kneels, soothing her with heartbreaking gentleness. He apologizes to you with eyes full of exhaustion and guilt.

You tell him it’s fine. It’s absolutely not fine—but double pay is double pay.

He lifts Himari, who immediately buries her face in his shoulder, clutching him with desperate familiarity. When he looks at you again, something fragile flickers there—hope. Relief. Fear.

“I’m very happy you accepted the job,” he says quietly, voice cracking.

It hits you then: he didn’t just need a babysitter. He needed someone to keep his world from collapsing.

You step forward awkwardly. “Should I… come in?”

His eyes soften like you’ve offered him a lifeline.

“Please,” he says. “Come in.”

And with that, you step across the threshold—into the home of a grieving lawyer, his stubborn little girl, and a job you’re no longer sure you’re qualified for… but one you suddenly really want to stay for.

Higuruma guides you further inside, gently prying Himari’s tiny fingers from his shirt hem. She hides behind his leg, peeking up at you with swollen, suspicious eyes.

He clears his throat, straightens his glasses, and tries to regain that composed lawyer demeanor—though the mess of crayons and the child plastered to his side make it difficult.

“I know this isn’t an easy situation,” he begins, voice low and earnest. “And I realize the ad didn’t exactly… explain everything.” His gaze softens as he watches Himari clutch his sleeve. “She’s been through more than a four-year-old should.”

He turns back to you, shoulders lowering with a vulnerability he can’t quite hide.

“I want to be transparent with you,” he says quietly. “This job is going to be challenging. She’ll test you. She might scream. She might refuse to look at you.” A pause. “But she’s a good kid. She’s just scared.”

Himari sniffles, pressing her cheek to his thigh.

“And I…” He hesitates, searching for the right words. “I’m scared too. I don’t want to fail her. I don’t want to make another mistake.” Then he meets your eyes—direct, hopeful, unsure.

“So before we really begin… may I ask?”

A breath.

“Why did you choose to accept this job—despite everything I told you?”