THE DON'S NANNY

ELODIE. I folded the last piece of bread into the brown paper bag and pressed it flat with my palm, as if making it neat could somehow make my life neat too. The kitchen was quiet except for the soft hum of the refrigerator. Morning light slipped through the small window above the sink, pale and unsure, like it didn’t want to stay long. I stood there for a moment, staring at the lunch packet I had made for Sofia. It was such a small thing—sandwich, fruit, a bottle of water—but it carried a weight that sat heavy in my chest. This was not how my life was supposed to look. Once, I had imagined mornings filled with rehearsals and auditions, scripts scattered across tables, makeup mirrors glowing with warm lights. I had imagined my name rolling easily off people’s tongues, my face known for something good. Instead, here I was, packing lunch in a borrowed kitchen, measuring my days in shame and regret. The memory came like it always did, sharp and unwanted. The live show. The lights. The laughter that followed when everything went wrong. One mistake—one moment stretched across millions of screens—and my dream collapsed. The clip went viral before I could even understand what had happened. People didn’t see a young woman trying her best. They saw a joke, and once the internet decided who you were, it didn’t let go easily. No matter how many times I sent out applications, no matter how carefully I explained myself, doors stayed shut. “We’ve decided to go in another direction.” “We’ll keep your résumé on file.” Polite words that meant the same thing every time: no. I had no steady income, no place that truly felt like home. Just a growing sense that I was floating through life without an anchor. “El?” Sofia’s voice pulled me back. I turned as she stepped into the kitchen, already dressed for work. She looked tired, but she still smiled, the way she always did, like she believed smiling could fix things. “I made you lunch,” I said, lifting the packet. She walked over and took it from me, her fingers brushing mine. “You didn’t have to.” “I wanted to.” She leaned in and kissed my forehead, just like she used to when we were younger. “Thank you,” she said softly. Then she pulled back and studied my face. “And stop thinking so hard. You’ll give yourself wrinkles before thirty.” I forced a small laugh. “Too late.” “You’re allowed to rest, you know,” she said. “Today, just… don’t worry so much.” She grabbed her bag and headed for the door, turning once more. “I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up.” “I won’t,” I said, though I knew I probably would. After she left, the apartment felt even quieter. I spent the day moving from one room to another, starting things and not finishing them. I cleaned the counter that was already clean. I opened my laptop and stared at job listings until the words blurred together. Every rejection echoed in my head before it even arrived. By evening, the walls felt like they were closing in. I needed noise, movement, anything to break the loop in my mind. I left a note for Sofia on the counter—Went out for a bit. Don’t worry.—and slipped into my jacket. I didn’t have a clear plan, only a need to escape myself. The club was already loud when I arrived. Music pulsed through the floor, vibrating up my legs and into my chest. Lights flashed in colors that felt unreal, like another world entirely. I ordered a drink, then another. The burn in my throat was welcome. It quieted my thoughts, softened the edges of my memories. For the first time all day and in a long time, I let myself disappear into the crowd. That was when I noticed him. It wasn’t his face at first. It was his scent—something deep and warm, unfamiliar but inviting. It cut through the mix of sweat and smoke and alcohol, drawing me closer without effort. When our eyes met, there was no hesitation, no small talk. Just understanding. We didn’t exchange names. We didn’t need to. Everything about him felt unreal, like a dream I had stepped into by accident. Time blurred, and the world narrowed down to the sound of music and the heat of bodies moving around us. I wasn’t thinking about tomorrow or yesterday. I wasn’t thinking at all. At some point, my fingers brushed his chest, and that was when I saw the tattoo—a wolf’s head, fierce and proud, crowned with thorns. Thin lines of red ink traced down from its eyes, like tears made of blood. It should have scared me. Instead, I couldn’t look away. There was something honest about it, something raw—like pain and strength woven together. I traced it lightly, memorizing it without knowing why. When I woke up, my head throbbed and my mouth felt dry. The music was gone. The lights were dim. I was lying on one of the club’s couches, my jacket pulled over me. For a second, panic flared within me until I realized I wasn’t alone. A few other people were scattered around, just as dazed as I was. A man clapped his hands sharply. “Alright, party’s over. Up you go.” The manager, I guessed. I sat up slowly, the memories of the night before rushing back in pieces. The scent. The tattoo. I turned, half-expecting to see him beside me. He was gone. I didn’t know why that disappointed me. We had agreed to nothing and promised nothing. Still, the emptiness beside me felt strange. I stood and reached for my bag. That was when I noticed the envelope beside me, thick and heavy. Inside it was cash, more money than I had seen in months. For a long moment, I just stared at it, my heart pounding. Relief washed over me so fast it made my knees weak. I laughed quietly, a sound that surprised me. I didn’t question it. I didn’t overthink it. I tucked the money away and walked out into the early morning air. On the way home, the city felt different and a lot lighter. The sun was just beginning to rise, painting the sky in soft colors. For the first time in a long while, I felt something close to hope. Back in the apartment, I collapsed onto my bed, the events of the night replaying in my mind—the scent, the tattoo, the feeling of being wanted without judgment. But as sleep finally claimed me, one thought lingered quietly in my mind as I wondered who the man was and if I would ever see him again.