I came home a month early, full of hopes for a quiet night filled with pasta, candles, and my husband’s warm embrace. But instead, I walked into chaos. Two young girls were sprawled on my carefully chosen Persian rug, treating my ukulele like a toy, while my husband looked stunned—like he’d seen a ghost. He explained that Julie, a coworker, had left her daughters with him for a week because no one else could help.
The girls, Mila and Riley, brought noise and mess everywhere. My music notebooks were scattered on the floor, cereal ended up in my shoes, and the peaceful mornings I once loved vanished under a whirlwind of giggles, footsteps, and spills. I tried to escape to my room, locking the door and playing violin scales to find calm. But even there, I wasn’t alone. Mila showed up, drawn by the music, and before I knew it, the girls were sitting beside me, listening and humming along.
