The apartment was quiet except for the rhythmic creak of the ceiling fan and Ethan's soft breathing from his crib. Olivia had finally managed to settle him down after their long day. She stood for a moment, leaning over the crib, brushing her fingers against the silky tuft of dark hair on his head. Relief washed over her at the sight of him so peaceful.
When she straightened, the silence felt heavier than usual. Her own body sagged with exhaustion, her shoulders stiff from carrying the stroller and her chest tight from the unexpected run-in with Daniel.
She padded into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water, and sat at the table. The first sip cooled her dry throat, but her thoughts burned hot and restless. No matter how hard she tried, Daniel's face kept resurfacing in her mind—his voice, his eyes, the way he'd looked at her tonight.
She shut her eyes tightly and shook her head. "No. Not going there."
What she couldn't push aside, however, was the dull ache of another reality: money.
Her checking account had been shrinking faster than she'd admitted even to Chloe. Diapers, formula, rent—every little expense carved deeper into the balance. She pulled her phone closer, unlocked it, and opened her banking app. The numbers stared back at her, cold and unflinching.
Her heart sank. At this rate, she had maybe two months before things tipped into dangerous territory.
With a shaky breath, she opened her browser and typed: Public Relations jobs near me.
The results filled her screen. Dozens of postings, most requiring more hours than she could manage. Some were out of town, others looked too unstable. She scrolled with a sinking feeling until her thumb paused on two listings that seemed almost too good to be true.
Position: PR Manager – Aurora Talent Agency.
Position: PR Manager – Sterling Communications.
Both were big names in the city. Both were looking for someone with strong experience in managing public images and media crises—something Olivia had once been exceptional at. Before Ethan, before her life unraveled, she had thrived on the chaos of press conferences, celebrity scandals, and midnight strategy calls. She had lived for it.
But the memories clawed at her now. The endless hours, the betrayals, the public scrutiny that had bled into her private life. Her last big account had coincided with her falling apart—first the unraveling of her relationship with Daniel, then the news of her pregnancy, then silence from her family when she needed them most.
Still, Ethan needed her. And money didn't wait for grief or hesitation.
She tapped the first posting. Her fingers hovered over the "Apply" button for a moment before she exhaled sharply and pressed it. Then she filled out the second application. Her resume was still saved in her email, updated just last year, and she quickly attached it, tweaking a line or two about her availability.
By the time she hit "Submit," her hands were trembling.
"That's done," she whispered to herself, pushing the phone away as if distance could soften the enormity of what she'd just set in motion.
The excitement of taking a step forward fizzled almost immediately into a new anxiety: Ethan.
She pressed her palms against her eyes, willing away the headache threatening to form. Who was going to watch him if she got hired?
Chloe was the obvious thought, but Chloe had her photography business to juggle—photo shoots, editing marathons, unpredictable schedules. Asking her to babysit Ethan daily would be unfair, even cruel.
Her family? A hollow laugh escaped her lips. Her parents had made it clear from the start that her choices were hers to bear. They had withdrawn their support after Ethan was born, offering only sharp words and stiff silences. She hadn't spoken to them in months, not beyond short, strained messages.
That left her with the one option she dreaded but knew was inevitable: finding a babysitter. A stranger. Someone she could trust to watch over the most precious piece of her life.
Olivia stared at Ethan's empty bottle drying in the sink. The thought of handing him over to anyone else twisted her insides. What if they weren't patient with him? What if they didn't know his little habits—the way he needed his blanket tucked just so, or how he preferred to be rocked in a slow rhythm instead of fast?
She covered her face with her hands and let out a low groan. "What am I supposed to do, Ethan?" she whispered into the quiet.
But even in her panic, a small solution surfaced. Mrs. Greene.
Her landlady had lived in the building for over twenty years, knew every tenant and half the neighborhood. If anyone had reliable recommendations for babysitters, it was Mrs. Greene. She'd probably have a list of names, vetted and trusted. Olivia had seen other moms in the building stop her in the hallway, asking for referrals.
It wasn't perfect. It wasn't family. But it was something.
She clung to that thought like a lifeline as she gathered her phone and pushed back from the table. Tomorrow, after feeding Ethan and getting him settled, she would knock on Mrs. Greene's door. It wouldn't hurt to ask.
Olivia rinsed her glass, wiped the counter absentmindedly, and checked the locks on the door. Back in the bedroom, Ethan stirred faintly in his crib but didn't wake. She brushed his cheek gently, her heart aching and swelling at once.
"I'll figure it out," she murmured, bending to kiss his forehead. "For you, I'll figure everything out."
When she finally lay down in bed, her mind still raced, the glow of her phone screen replaying the job postings in her head. She thought of Daniel's eyes in the parking lot, of Chloe's steady loyalty, of her dwindling bank balance.
Sleep took her slowly, tugging her under with the weight of promises she wasn't sure she could keep—but knew she had to try.