Maria laughed with them—not the polite, careful laugh of the professional nannies Ethan had hired before. This laugh came from deep in her chest, carefree and real, as if getting soaked and covered in mud was the most natural thing in the world.
A strange tightness formed in Ethan’s chest.
Not because the scene was wrong.
Because it was something he didn’t understand.
Since Rachel had left two years earlier, the house had been filled with quiet dinners and careful footsteps. The children rarely spoke. They sat at the table like strangers, barely touching their food.
Ethan had tried to fix things the only way he knew how.
New video games. Expensive toys. The best babysitters money could buy.
None of it had worked.
Until now.
Suddenly the youngest child, five-year-old Noah, tripped while running across the wet grass and fell face-first into the mud.
Ethan instinctively stepped forward, expecting tears.
But Noah lifted his muddy face, looked at Maria—and burst into laughter.
Maria ran toward him, deliberately slipped beside him, and collapsed in the mud. The other kids immediately piled on top of them in a chaotic group hug.