The babysitter

Sudden

The Bradford household had found its new normal. Rachel was a constant presence now, slipping seamlessly into the routine Tim and Emma had built with Lucy. Emma adored her, clinging to Rachel's side with unrestrained joy. They baked cookies, painted rainbows with watercolors, and spent hours pretending the living room was a magical forest.

Tim smiled more often these days. Rachel brought a lightness to his life he hadn't realized he was missing. Yet, in the midst of the cheerful chaos, there was one thing he couldn't shake—a sense of unease every time he looked at Lucy.

It began subtly. Lucy's once-bright laughter didn't echo through the house as much. She wasn't as quick to join in on Emma's games or laugh at Tim's dry humor. Her phone, which had always been tucked away during the day, was now constantly in her hand or pocket. She took calls in hushed tones, her voice distant and guarded.

One afternoon, Tim found her sitting on the porch, her phone pressed to her ear. She didn't notice him as he stepped outside, her attention focused on whoever was on the other end of the line.

"No, it's not that simple," she said quietly, her tone strained. "I just... I need more time, okay?"

Tim hesitated, not wanting to eavesdrop but unable to ignore the concern twisting in his chest. The way Lucy spoke, the weight in her voice—it was unlike her.

When she finally noticed him, she ended the call abruptly, shoving her phone into her pocket. "Hey," she said, forcing a smile. "What's up?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Tim replied, leaning against the porch railing. "You've been... different lately."

Lucy's smile faltered, and she shrugged. "Just thinking about stuff, I guess."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Nothing important," she said quickly, her gaze shifting away. "Don't worry about it."

But Tim did worry. He couldn't help it.

As the days passed, Lucy's behavior became more pronounced. She was quieter, more reserved, her mind clearly elsewhere. Even Emma noticed the change.

"Lucie," Emma said one afternoon, tugging on Lucy's hand. "Come play with me and Rachel!"

Lucy blinked, as though snapping out of a trance. "What? Oh, maybe later, Em. I've got something I need to do first."

Emma pouted but didn't argue, skipping off to find Rachel. Lucy watched her go, guilt flickering across her face before she turned back to her phone.

Tim observed all of this from the kitchen, his brow furrowing. Something was going on, and it was starting to feel like Lucy was pulling away.

One evening, after dinner, Tim decided he couldn't stay silent any longer. He found Lucy sitting in the living room, scrolling through her phone.

"Lucy," he said, sitting down across from her.

She looked up, startled. "Yeah?"

"We need to talk," he said, his tone firm but gentle.

"About what?" she asked, feigning nonchalance.

"About you," Tim said. "You've been... off lately. Distant. And I can't help but feel like something's wrong."

Lucy's expression faltered, and she looked down at her hands. "I'm fine, Tim."

"No, you're not," he said. "I know you, Lucy. I can tell when something's bothering you."

She hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. "It's nothing. Really."

"Lucy," Tim said, leaning forward. "If something's going on, you can tell me. You know that, right?"

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and for a moment, he thought she might open up. But then she shook her head, her walls going back up. "It's nothing you need to worry about," she said softly.

The tension lingered in the days that followed. Rachel continued to spend time with Emma, their bond growing stronger with each passing day. Emma's laughter filled the house, but Tim found himself watching Lucy more than ever.

She was still taking calls in private, her conversations short and terse. When she wasn't on the phone, she seemed lost in thought, her mind clearly elsewhere.

One evening, Tim found her in the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner. She looked exhausted, her shoulders slumped as she scrubbed a stubborn stain on the counter.

"Lucy," he said, stepping into the room.

She glanced up, startled. "Yeah?"

"Are you sure everything's okay?"

She sighed, setting the sponge down. "Tim, I appreciate your concern, but I'm fine. Really."

"You don't seem fine," he said. "You've been different lately. Quieter. Distant."

Lucy looked away, her jaw tightening. "I'm just... figuring some things out. That's all."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She shook her head. "Not right now."

Tim wanted to press further, but he could see how tired she was, and he didn't want to push her.

The breaking point came a few nights later. Rachel had just left for the evening, and Emma was asleep in her room. Tim was sitting in the living room, scrolling through his phone, when Lucy appeared in the doorway.

"Hey," he said, looking up.

"Hey," she replied, her voice soft.

She stepped into the room and sat down across from him, her hands folded in her lap.

"Tim," she began, her voice trembling slightly.

He set his phone down, his attention fully on her. "What is it?"

Lucy took a deep breath, her eyes meeting his.

"I resign," she said quietly.

Tim's heart sank. "What?"

"I'm resigning," she repeated, her voice firmer this time.

The weight of her words hung in the air, heavy and final. Tim stared at her, trying to process what she had just said.