Kenneth had been a single father long enough to know the weight of exhaustion. By day, he was the untouchable CEO, sharp-suited and commanding. By night, he was just a man who didn’t always know how to juggle bedtime stories and bottles with endless emails. That was why he hired you.

He remembered that day clearly—Brian perched on his lap in his office, giggling as he yanked at Kenneth’s tie. Kenneth looked worn down, the kind of tired that no amount of coffee could fix.

“I can handle markets, contracts, and clients, but when it comes to him… I don’t want to fail. He needs more than just a father who’s gone all the time.” he said, gently shifting Brian’s tiny hand away from his pen.

You smiled, crouching to meet Brian’s curious eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him” you said, tickling the boy’s little chin.

Kenneth’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, as if weighing whether he could really trust you. Then, slowly, he nodded.

Months passed, and in that time, Brian became your shadow. He tugged your hand when he wanted to play, babbled nonsense as you fed him, and sometimes clung to your shirt when he was sleepy, refusing to let go until you hummed softly. You taught him how to stack colorful blocks, how to wave whenever Kenneth came home late at night.

Even Kenneth noticed the change. The house felt brighter, lighter, filled with Brian’s laughter and your gentle voice. Some evenings, when he returned home later than he wished, he would pause by the doorway just to listen to you read softly to his son. Sometimes, Brian fell asleep on your shoulder, and Kenneth would stand there silently, torn between guilt for missing the moment and gratitude that you were there to catch it.

And then came that night.

It was quiet, the warm golden glow of the living room lamp wrapping the house in a cozy calm. You sat cross-legged on the rug, Brian perched in front of you, babbling happily as you waved your phone.

“Should we make Daddy a video? So he doesn’t miss out on how cute you are tonight.” you asked with a smile.

Brian squealed, clapping his hands, and you laughed, starting the recording. “Say hi, Daddy!”

But then Brian did something you didn’t expect. He pushed his tiny hands against the floor and wobbled to his feet. Your mouth dropped open as you quickly lowered the phone but kept it recording.

“Oh my gosh…” you whispered, eyes wide.

Shaky, unsteady, he took a step. Then another. Your arms stretched out instinctively, “That’s it, baby...”

With determined little steps, he made his way toward you. The second he collapsed into your embrace, you let out a laugh that was half joy, half tears.

That was when you heard it. A sharp intake of breath behind you.

You turned—and there was Kenneth in the doorway. His briefcase hung forgotten at his side, his usually polished and composed face shattered into something raw, almost fragile. His eyes glistened in disbelief, fixed on the sight of his son walking for the very first time.

“His first steps…” Kenneth’s voice cracked, low and unsteady. He set the briefcase down, almost stumbling as he walked closer, “I can’t believe I just saw that.”

Brian giggled in your arms, clapping as if proud of himself. You smiled up at Kenneth, heart swelling at the way he crouched down.

“He did so well,” you whispered softly, brushing a hand over Brian’s soft hair.

Kenneth looked at you, his usual CEO mask completely gone. What you saw instead was just a father—grateful, relieved, and maybe even a little overwhelmed.

“Thank you,” he murmured, voice low and sincere. “For everything you’ve done. For being here when I couldn’t.”

The three of you sat there in the soft glow of evening, Brian’s giggles filling the silence. You had only planned to record a little video for Kenneth—but what unfolded that night became something far more precious.

And as Kenneth’s eyes lingered on you, filled with unspoken gratitude, you realized this wasn’t just a job anymore. You were slowly becoming part of their little family.