The next morning, Mrs. X called me into her pristine, white living room. She had found a nanny cam recording I didn't know existed. It didn't show me doing anything wrong—it showed me hugging Grayer, telling him he was loved, and letting him eat pizza.
Navigating a romance with a gorgeous guy from the penthouse while cleaning up toddler vomit and dodging the piercing glare of Mrs. X was a masterclass in comedy and chaos. Caleb was sweet, grounded, and fiercely protective of me, often pulling me away for late-night walks in the park just to let me vent about the absurdities of my day. But the bubble had to burst eventually.
"I have no idea what I'm doing with my life," I admitted, taking a sip.
The pressure in the X household reached a boiling point. Mr. X was having an affair with his co-worker, and Mrs. X was descending into a spiral of paranoia and perfectionism. I was working sixteen-hour days, neglecting my own life, my studies, and Caleb.
"Grayer! Grayer!" the child shrieked, flinging the box at a passing poodle. "I am so sorry!" a voice called out.
