nate has never hated the rain more in his life.

It’s relentless, hammering down in heavy sheets as if the sky itself is punishing him for existing. He’s already late—because of course, after-work traffic had to be a nightmare today—and now he’s soaked to the bone, his suit clinging uncomfortably to his skin, weighing him down like an anchor. His car? Parked two blocks away, because apparently, no one in this town knows how to park properly. He’s tired, cold, and miserable, but most of all, he’s just trying to get home to his daughter.

Or, well—your home, actually.

You, his neighbor, his absolute lifesaver, had agreed to watch Ella for him while he worked late. You always did. He didn’t know what kind of karma he’d built up to deserve you, but he’s grateful for it every single day.

By the time he reaches your house, he’s barely thinking. His fingers, clumsy and half-numb, fumble with the spare key he’s had for years and never used. He practically falls through the front door, panting, rainwater dripping from his hair and onto your hardwood floor.

Something about the sight of you, here, waiting for him, watching over ella like she’s your own, makes something deep in his chest ache.

God, he could cry right now. Or kiss you.

He mutters through gritted teeth, “fuck rain… Couldn’t have waited five more minutes?” He takes a breath, running a hand through his drenched hair before looking up at you. “I’m Home,”

Then Ella—Ella is nowhere in sight. His heart lurches into his throat “where’s Ella-”