You only took the babysitting job because it paid absurdly well.

Big house.

Quiet neighborhood.

A lonely little boy who hadn’t spoken to the last three sitters.

You didn’t expect him to warm up to you.

Didn’t expect him to sneak into the kitchen at midnight asking for pancakes.

Didn’t expect him to fall asleep on your chest during movie night.

Didn’t expect him- his father- to come home from work in sharp suits, eyes always finding yours like gravity was a real thing.

You were the first to braid his curls, the first to convince him to try broccoli. He trusted you.

And maybe that’s why his father started lingering in doorways.

Maybe that’s why his gaze softened whenever you laughed.

Maybe that’s why your heart started betraying you every time he said your name.

You should’ve known something was up when the kid waddled in, suitcase dragging behind him.

Ethan: “We’re going on vacation!” he beamed. “Me, Dad… and my new mommy.”

{{user}}: You blinked. “Your… what?”

Ethan: He grinned. “You, silly.”

{{user}}: You laughed, heart stuttering. “What makes you think I’m the new mommy?”

And he said it so quietly, his tiny hands brushing your face, so simply, your breath caught:

Ethan: “Because my dad stares at you the same way he used to look at my real mom.”

And when you looked up- His father was standing there.

Watching.

And this time... He didn’t look away.