The Night Routine
1452 Words
I didn’t expect bedtime to become my favorite part of the day, but somehow it did. Maybe it was the quiet, the soft lamplight in Lila’s room, or the way her little shoulders finally relaxed when she was tucked into bed. Or maybe it was the tiny, fragile trust she offered me in pieces, never all at once, but enough to pull at something deep inside my chest.
After our little scavenger hunt earlier, after I saw the spark in her eyes and the small, hesitant smile she didn’t know she was giving me, I decided I wanted to make bedtime feel safe for her. Predictable. Maybe even warm.
So I sat beside her bed that night, smoothing her blanket as she blinked slowly at me, half sleepy, half unsure.
“Okay,” I whispered, trying to sound playful. “I have something new for bedtime.”
She watched me with those huge, wary eyes of hers. “What…?”
“A bedtime ritual.” I tapped the top of her forehead gently. “Kiss number one: the Dream Kiss. To make sure you only dream nice things.”
She blinked but didn’t pull away, so I leaned in and pressed a small kiss to her forehead.
“Number two,” I continued, my finger brushing her nose, “the Magic Button Kiss. Because you’re magical.”
I kissed the tip of her nose, and her eyes widened just a little, surprised, but curious.
“And number three…” I touched her cheek softly, “The Heart Kiss. To remind you that you’re the most special little girl in the whole world.”
A kiss to her cheek. Warm. Soft. Deliberate.
Then, because I’m me, I accompanied the final one with the cheesiest line I could think of:
“Three kisses for the bravest girl I know.”
She blinked rapidly, as if unsure how to process it. I could see her eyes gloss slightly, just a shimmer, but she nodded and pulled her blanket higher.
I didn’t linger. I didn’t want to overwhelm her. I turned off the bedside lamp, leaving the soft nightlight in the corner glowing blue.
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” I whispered. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
I stood to leave, but she whispered, barely audible.
“Goodnight.”
It was the softest, most delicate thing I’d ever heard. My chest tightened with warmth.
But before I reached the door, a thought struck me. Morning routines. Maybe she needed that too, something fun, something just hers.
I turned back. “One more thing,” I said lightly. “Tomorrow morning, I want to try something fun with you. A secret handshake.”
Her brows furrowed. “What’s that?”
“Oh, it’s like a special greeting only we know.” I crouched beside her bed again and demonstrated a simple sequence, two taps on the wrist, a palm press, then a gentle finger wiggle. “Like this.”
She watched carefully. Too carefully.
“Now you try,” I said softly, offering my hand.
She mimicked the motions but stumbled on the last part. The little frown that appeared made my heart squeeze.
“It’s okay,” I whispered immediately. “It took me forever to learn my first handshake too.”
“Really?” she asked quietly.
“Really. We’ll practice together. No rush. You’re doing great.”
Her eyes softened, losing their tension. I brushed a loose curl off her forehead.
“Sleep now, sweet dreams.”
I kissed her forehead again before pulling back and slipping out.
The hallway was dim, and I was smiling to myself, warmth filling every inch of me, until I walked straight into Damian.
I cursed under my breath because of course, he would be there, leaning against the wall like some brooding gothic statue.
His eyes immediately dropped to the papers in my hand.
“The work she did today,” he said, monotone, extending a hand.
I froze for a second.
Right. The work.
The fake work.
We hadn’t done homework. I’d filled out the worksheets myself in my best imitation of a six-year-old’s handwriting. I’d even practiced making the letters slightly too big and uneven. It felt stupid, but also necessary. Lila had played today. She had smiled. Homework could wait.
But Damian…
I swallowed and handed him the pages.
He flipped through them, his eyes scanning each line. My stomach twisted with every second that passed.
He didn’t comment on the handwriting. Thank God.
After a moment, he gave a single curt nod. “Fine.”
That was it.
No, thank you. No recognition. No acknowledgment that his daughter had smiled today for the first time since I arrived.
Just “fine.”
Then he dismissed me with a flick of his hand, like I was one of the staff, not the woman he’d hired to help repair his daughter’s shattered sense of security.
I kept my expression neutral, because dignity is a thing.
But once I got to my room and shut the door, I let out a very unladylike groan and fell face-first onto my bed.
After a minute, I dragged myself to the shower, letting the warm water wash off the day’s stress. The moment I stepped out, wrapped in a towel, my phone buzzed.
It was my best friend, Sally.
I answered immediately.
“So,” she began without greeting, “how’s Mr. Tall and Has-No-Idea-How-To-Smile?”
I groaned dramatically. “He is the most annoying man on the planet.”
Sally snorted. “Oh please, you love annoying men.”
“I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
“I—okay, maybe in fiction,” I admitted. “But Damian? He’s a different level of annoying. He walks around like the world owes him sunlight.”
“He’s hot though,” she reminded me helpfully.
“Annoying,” I corrected. “Like… arrogantly handsome. Which somehow makes it worse.”
Sally laughed, the rich, belly-deep laugh that always made me smile no matter how irritated I was.
“Men like that,” she declared confidently, “will f**k your brains out.”
I burst into laughter, covering my face with one hand. “Gia! Oh my God!”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re wrong.”
“I’m never wrong. He broods. Brooding men have stamina.”
“Shut up,” I wheezed, laughing again. “Besides, we don’t even like each other.”
“You like his face,” she said.
“I said he’s handsome. I never said I liked him.”
“You said he’s arrogantly handsome. Which means you’ve studied his face enough to reach a conclusion.”
I rolled my eyes so hard they nearly fell out. “Sally, his personality is such a buzzkill, like, if I were a bee, he’d be pesticide.”
She cackled so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear.
“Callie… sweetheart… You are so screwed.”
“I am not!”
“You are.”
I flopped back onto my pillows, staring at the ceiling, smiling despite myself.
“Fine,” I said. “He’s attractive. Like… irritatingly attractive.”
“Mm-hm.”
“But also grumpy. And emotionally constipated. And bossy. And—”
“And you’d climb him like a tree.”
“Sally!”
“What? I’m supporting your journey.”
I laughed again, warmth spreading through me despite the exhaustion. Then I sighed.
“Seriously, though… today was good.”
“Yeah?” Her voice softened.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Lila smiled. Not fully. But… a little. And she played. And she tried a secret handshake with me.”
“Aww, babe.”
“It was…” I swallowed gently. “It was a good day.”
There was a pause, long and warm.
“You’re good for her, Callie,” Sally said softly. “You know that, right? You're so good with kids you'd make a great mom”
My throat tightened. The line went silent.
“I'm sorry Callie I didn't mean….”
“It's okay,” I whispered.
After we said goodnight, I put my phone on the nightstand, slid under the covers, and let the softness of the bed wrap around me.
Tomorrow would be another day. Another chance.
Another step toward helping a little girl open up and learn how to smile again.
And maybe… another argument with Damian, the buzzkill with stupidly pretty eyes.
But for now, I drifted to sleep with the echo of Lila’s tiny, whispered “goodnight” replaying in my mind.
It was the softest victory.
But it was mine.
- Writer
