Chapter three: DAILY ROUTINE
1048 Words
Xenia’s POV
# Chapter Three
## Xenia
My alarm rang at six in the morning.
I immediately regretted every decision that had led me to this moment.
For several seconds I stared at the ceiling, trying to convince myself that if I ignored the alarm long enough, it would somehow become someone else's problem.
Unfortunately, life did not work that way.
With a groan, I climbed out of bed and got ready for the day.
By six thirty, I was standing in the kitchen making breakfast while trying not to burn anything.
Again.
The estate was still quiet.
The sun had barely risen.
Everything felt peaceful.
That peace lasted exactly seven minutes.
A small pair of feet came running down the stairs.
"Nanny!"
And there it was.
Chaos.
I turned around just in time to catch Kira before she launched herself at me.
"Good morning, baby."
"Good morning!"
Her hair looked like she'd wrestled a tornado in her sleep.
I gently pushed some of it away from her face.
"Did you brush your teeth?"
"Yes."
I narrowed my eyes.
Kira narrowed hers back.
We stared at each other.
"Okay," she admitted. "Not yet."
I sighed dramatically.
"One day you will become an actress."
Kira grinned proudly.
Apparently she thought that was a compliment.
By seven fifteen, breakfast was finished, uniforms were on, lunch was packed, and Kira was finally ready for school.
Well.
Almost ready.
"Kira."
"What?"
"Your shoes."
She looked down.
"Oh."
One shoe was black.
The other was blue.
I honestly had no idea how she managed these things.
Sometimes I wondered if she woke up every morning and chose confusion.
Twenty minutes later we were finally sitting inside the car.
Kira occupied the backseat while happily talking about absolutely everything.
Children possessed an incredible ability to hold entire conversations without needing responses.
I mostly listened and nodded at the appropriate moments.
"...and then Olivia said unicorns are not real."
"Mm."
"But I think maybe they are real."
"Mm."
"And Daddy says I ask too many questions."
"Mm."
She gasped dramatically.
"Nanny, are you listening?"
I smiled.
"Of course."
"What did I just say?"
I immediately regretted my confidence.
Fortunately, years of college presentations had prepared me for moments exactly like this.
"You said Olivia does not believe in unicorns."
Kira narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
Then she nodded.
"Okay."
I had survived.
Barely.
After dropping her off, I headed straight to campus.
My first lecture started in less than thirty minutes.
By the time I reached the classroom, students were already filling the seats.
Some smiled at me.
Some ignored me.
Some whispered.
I pretended not to notice.
I always pretended not to notice.
It was easier that way.
The lecture itself was going well until the professor asked me a question.
I knew the answer.
I really did.
Unfortunately, knowing the answer and saying it correctly in English were two completely different things.
I stood.
My hands immediately started sweating.
Anxiety always found me during moments like this.
I cleared my throat.
"The patient was responding positively because the medication have—"
Several students laughed.
Not loudly.
But loud enough.
Heat rushed into my cheeks.
The professor corrected my grammar before I could finish.
I quickly sat back down.
The laughter eventually stopped.
The embarrassment stayed.
For the rest of the lecture, I focused on my notes and tried not to think about it.
By lunchtime, I had almost convinced myself I was fine.
Almost.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Kira.
Actually, several messages.
Most were pictures.
One showed her lunch.
Another showed a flower.
The third showed her shoe.
I wasn't sure why.
Kira:
LOOK NANNY
Me:
Very nice shoe, baby.
Kira:
THANK YOU
I laughed despite myself.
Somehow she always managed to improve my mood.
Classes ended shortly after three.
I packed my books and headed back to the car.
School pickup time.
My favorite part of the day.
The second Kira spotted me outside the school gates, she came running.
"Nanny!"
I barely had time to kneel before she threw herself into my arms.
Children really had no concern for personal space.
Not that I minded.
"How was school?"
"Good."
That answer lasted exactly three seconds.
Then she launched into a detailed explanation involving crayons, playground drama, and somebody named Noah who apparently ate glue.
I wasn't entirely sure how much of the story was true.
But I listened anyway.
By the time we arrived home, Kira had already moved on to three completely different topics.
Inside the estate, our usual routine began.
Homework first.
Playtime second.
Dinner after.
Then bath time.
Then bedtime.
Simple.
Comfortable.
Familiar.
I sat beside Kira at the dining table while she worked on her spelling assignment.
She frowned at the paper.
"This word is stupid."
I blinked.
"Kira."
"What?"
"We do not call words stupid."
She sighed.
"This word is... difficult."
"Much better."
Five minutes later she raised her hand.
As if she were still in class.
"Yes?"
"How do you spell elephant?"
I smiled.
"Very carefully."
Kira stared at me.
Then she burst into laughter.
By evening, homework was finished and the two of us were sprawled across the living room floor building yet another blanket fort.
Our third one this week.
At this point, I was beginning to think we had a problem.
The front door remained closed.
The estate remained quiet.
Mr. Winslie was still thousands of miles away.
Yet somehow the house never felt lonely with Kira around.
As the sun disappeared outside the windows, Kira suddenly looked up from arranging blankets.
"Nanny?"
"Yes, baby?"
"Do you think Daddy misses us?"
The question caught me off guard.
I smiled softly.
"Very much."
"How do you know?"
Because every time he calls, the first thing he asks about is you.
Because every photograph he keeps is of you.
Because every decision he makes seems to begin with your name.
Instead I simply said, "Because he loves you."
Kira seemed satisfied with that answer.
She returned to her fort.
I watched her for a moment.
A little girl with her mother's smile and her father's stubbornness.
Four more days.
Then Mr. Winslie would finally come home.
And life would return to normal.
Or at least, what passed for normal in this house.
- Writer
