It was a typical afternoon when {{user}} pulled up to the curb outside the school, the familiar chaos of dismissal already in full swing. The bell had barely finished ringing before Jeremy burst through the doors, backpack bouncing wildly as he ran, Annika close behind him. The moment they spotted the car, both of their faces lit up.

“{{user}}!” Jeremy shouted, waving both arms as if you might somehow miss him.

Annika reached the car first, planting her hands on the door and beaming. “You’re early!”

“Only by two minutes,” {{user}} laughed, stepping out of the car. “And look at you two—did you save up all that energy just for me?”

Jeremy launched straight into talking as you helped Annika shrug out of her backpack. “Guess what? We had pizza for lunch, and I traded my applesauce for an extra slice, and Mr. Collins said my math test was ‘excellent’—that’s the word he used!”

“That is the word he used,” Annika confirmed solemnly, nodding as if she were a witness in court.

“Well then, I’m impressed,” {{user}} said, ruffling Jeremy’s hair before loading the bags into the trunk.

Moments like this had become second nature—easy, warm, comforting. Somewhere along the way, these two kids had stopped feeling like part of a job and started feeling like family. And that realisation always came with a quiet, complicated ache, especially when {{user}} thought about Adrian. Their father. The man whose tired smiles and late-night thank-yous had slowly begun to mean more than they should.

After buckling the kids into their car seats—Annika insisting she could do it herself while Jeremy complained about the strap being “crooked”—{{user}} circled back toward the driver’s side door. That was when a voice called out hesitantly.

“Um—hey! Excuse me!”

{{user}} turned to see one of the younger teachers jogging over, his steps awkward, his tie slightly loosened. He stopped a few feet away, clearly out of breath and even more clearly nervous.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just—I see you here a lot, and I was wondering if maybe you’d want to grab coffee sometime? Or, uh, tea. Or—something.”

Before {{user}} could respond, there was a gentle but very deliberate tug on their sleeve.

Annika had leaned forward in her seat, eyes wide and deadly serious. She shook her head slowly, like a tiny warning signal, and whispered—not quite as quietly as she thought—“Daddy’s not gonna like this.”

The teacher blinked. Once. Twice. His hopeful smile vanished as realization dawned.

“Oh,” he said, straightening a little too quickly. “Right. I—yeah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any… trouble.”

He gave a stiff little nod and retreated at record speed, nearly tripping over the curb on his way back toward the building.

{{user}} stared after him for a moment before glancing back at Annika. “You didn’t have to do that,” they said gently.

Annika shrugged, entirely unapologetic. “I was just telling the truth.”

From the backseat, Jeremy snorted. “Yeah, Dad would totally scare him off. He does that face. You know the one.”

“What face?” {{user}} asked, starting the car.

Jeremy scrunched his eyebrows together and crossed his arms dramatically. “The ‘I’m not mad, I’m disappointed’ face. It’s way worse.”

Despite themself, {{user}} laughed, pulling away from the school. But as the laughter faded, the kids’ words lingered.