The babysitter

Back to normal(hopefully)

Lucy stirred slowly as the faint light from the evening sky crept through the blinds, casting soft shadows across the room. Her eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment, she lay still, disoriented, unsure of how much time had passed. The coolness of the room contrasted sharply with the feverish heat she'd woken up to earlier, and her body felt significantly lighter—less heavy, less tired. She glanced over at the couch, where Emma lay nestled in a cozy blanket, her small figure barely visible against the fabric. The girl was still asleep, her breathing slow and even.

A quiet sigh escaped Lucy's lips as she ran a hand through her tangled hair, still feeling the aftermath of the sleepless night. Despite the exhaustion, there was a sense of relief in her chest, knowing Emma was starting to recover.

She slowly lifted herself off the couch, the familiar weight of the fatigue pulling at her limbs. Her body ached slightly, the remnants of the long night spent caring for Emma taking their toll. She stretched, feeling the tightness in her muscles ease, and then made her way to the kitchen, seeking the comfort of coffee or something warm to help shake the fog that still lingered in her mind.

The scent of garlic and something savory filled the air as she stepped into the kitchen, and her eyes immediately landed on Tim, who was standing by the stove, a wooden spoon in hand as he stirred something in a pot. His broad back was turned to her, but he seemed completely at ease in the quiet of the apartment, the faint hum of the stovetop the only sound between them.

"Evening," he said, his voice calm, but with a hint of amusement as he caught her gaze in the reflection of the kitchen window.

Lucy blinked, her thoughts still hazy. "What time is it?" she mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Tim glanced over his shoulder at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Almost six," he replied, his tone light.

She frowned, her brow furrowing in disbelief. "I swore it was nine a.m. a minute ago," she muttered, still processing how much time had slipped away while she'd been resting.

Tim chuckled softly, his eyes returning to the dish in front of him. "Sounds like you needed the sleep," he remarked, clearly amused at her groggy confusion.

Lucy stood there for a moment, still trying to shake off the remnants of slumber. Her mind felt sluggish, her body too, and the warmth of the apartment made it hard to focus. She could hear the soft bubbling sound of whatever Tim was cooking, and it was enough to make her stomach grumble in hunger. She hadn't realized how famished she was until that very moment.

She leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing her arms over her chest. "How do you feel?" Tim asked, his voice warm but serious, his attention still on the pot he was stirring.

Lucy blinked, caught off guard by the question. Her mind still felt foggy, but she pushed herself to answer. "Better," she said, her voice quieter now as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Still a little... tired, but I feel much better."

Tim's smile softened as he turned around fully to face her. "Good to hear." Then, as if remembering something, his eyes sparkled mischievously. "Wait, are you making dinner?" she asked, her tone a mix of surprise and amusement.

Tim raised an eyebrow at her, as though the question was obvious. "Yeah, why?" he replied, his expression both casual and a little teasing.

Lucy's face flushed with guilt, her mind racing. "I am so sorry. I was supposed to make it, but I got too—" She hesitated, the weight of her apology hanging in the air.

Tim immediately cut her off, a reassuring smile spreading across his face. "Relax. Take this as a thank you for taking care of Emma last night." His voice was light, as though he was trying to ease her guilt, but there was sincerity beneath it.

Lucy's mouth opened to protest, but she stopped herself. She glanced over at Emma, still sleeping soundly on the couch, and then back at Tim. He had been up for hours, preparing dinner, probably not even thinking about the fact that it was technically her turn to make the meal. The weight of everything from the night before—and the exhaustion—seemed to melt off her shoulders.

"It's my job," Lucy said, shrugging slightly, as though the responsibility she had to take care of Emma was just a part of her routine. But even as she said it, she felt a warmth in her chest, an understanding that Tim wasn't just acknowledging her duty—he was acknowledging the care she had given, the love she had shown for Emma in the middle of the night.

Tim stepped toward the counter, setting the spoon down next to the stove, and met her gaze. "In the day," he said, his voice dropping slightly. "But it's not just a job when it's someone you care about, right?" He paused, letting the words hang in the air between them before continuing, "And you've done a lot, Lucy. You earned the night off."

Lucy swallowed, her heart thudding a little faster than it should have. He wasn't wrong. In fact, he was more than right. The tiredness and frustration of the night before had faded into something else—a warmth that, despite everything, felt incredibly comforting. She didn't have to do it alone. He was here.

Before she could respond, she heard a faint rustling behind her, and her eyes flicked toward the couch. There was a small sound—a yawn—and then the shuffle of tiny feet as Emma stirred from her slumber.

"She's waking up," Lucy murmured, her heart lightening as she turned toward Emma, but then a new wave of responsibility flooded her thoughts. "She'll need to wash her hands before dinner."

Tim nodded, already moving toward the stove again to check on the food. "Great. Get her to wash up, and dinner will be served." His words were filled with the promise of comfort, and his tone made it clear that, despite the unexpected turn of events, he had everything under control.

Lucy stood there for a moment, watching him move around the kitchen. His presence was steady, reliable—unwavering. He wasn't just cooking dinner. He was ensuring that everyone was taken care of. He was part of the small family that had formed here, within the walls of this apartment.

"Thank you," she said, her voice quieter now, but filled with sincerity. Tim didn't need to hear it—he already knew—but she needed to say it. For herself, if nothing else.

Tim glanced back at her with a small, warm smile, as if the words weren't necessary but appreciated nonetheless. "Anytime."

Lucy turned and walked toward the couch, her steps light now as she approached Emma. The little girl was blinking sleepily, rubbing her eyes as she struggled to wake up fully.

"Hey, Em," Lucy said softly, kneeling beside her. "Come on, time to wash up before dinner."

Emma yawned again, her eyes still heavy with sleep, but when she looked up at Lucy, her face lit up with a small, sleepy smile. "Dinner?" she asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

"Yeah," Lucy said with a smile of her own, brushing a lock of hair from Emma's face. "Dinner."

Tim was already setting the table when they made their way to the kitchen, Emma still sluggish but following Lucy's gentle prompts. It was a simple evening, one that felt warm and settled after a restless night. The comfort of being together—of having someone to share this quiet moment with—made everything feel just a little bit lighter.

Dinner was a small affair, but it was exactly what they needed—something warm, something that made the fatigue and worry of the past day melt away. The sound of Emma's laughter and the hum of Tim's easy conversation filled the apartment, and for a moment, everything was exactly as it should be.