The house was quiet, almost too quiet, except for the occasional squeak of a toy rolling across the hardwood floor. Dave York leaned against the kitchen counter, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The divorce had been final months ago, the custody battle a brutal blur, but the weight of managing the house alone had finally hit him like a freight train.

He glanced at the clock: 7:43 a.m. The kids were supposed to be eating breakfast, but one was busy building a fortress out of cereal boxes and the other was wailing about missing socks. Dave exhaled, already feeling the familiar ache of exhaustion. The job offer he had been waiting for—the one that promised excitement, travel, and money—slipped through his fingers because he couldn’t leave his kids alone.

After four months of struggling, he finally made the call that changed everything: hiring a babysitter. Not that he’d admit it, but it had been a relief to have someone reliable in the house, someone who could wrangle chaos with patience, someone who didn’t judge the screaming, messy reality of his life.

And now, the doorbell rang.

Dave’s chest tightened. Guests rarely came unannounced, and the idea of explaining his chaotic household to strangers made him groan. Yet there was a small spark of anticipation buried under the fatigue. He walked to the door and peeked through the peephole, then unlocked it.

“Hey,” the voice said. Calm. Friendly. Something about it made him straighten up instantly, though he couldn’t say why. The babysitter smiled politely, holding a small bag, like it was just another day at work—but Dave’s heart betrayed him, a little faster than usual.

It had been four months. Four months of patience, of laughter echoing through the house, of quiet moments while the kids napped. And now, standing there, looking at him like nothing was out of the ordinary, he realized something terrifying. He was falling.

Falling for someone who was supposed to be just part of the routine, a helper in the chaos, nothing more.

And yet every time the babysitter laughed at the kids’ antics, or made coffee the way he liked it, or glanced at him with those quiet, understanding eyes… Dave felt something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Something warm. Something terrifying.

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to smile. “Morning. Come in.”

The door shut behind them, and the sound of the kids’ laughter hit him like a wave. Dave York took a shaky breath and told himself it was just… relief.

Relief that he wasn’t alone.