"I can't do this anymore!"
The Nanny's voice cracked as she burst into tears, standing in the middle of the grand staircase, clutching Anna's small pink sweater in her trembling hands. The house, though majestic and bright, seemed to shrink around her as she sobbed.
Thelma, the housekeeper, rushed from the kitchen, flour flying down on the floor like dust being carried by wind as she hit her hands on her apron as she came to the nanny's side. "Hey, please what happened now?"
James, the butler and gate keeper, appeared from the hallway, pausing at the sight of the Nanny's breakdown. "Is everything alright?"
She shook her head violently. "No, it's not. I've tried. I've truly tried. But I can't take it anymore! Anna keeps making life worse for me and there's Des and Sandra, they're wild! They don't make things any easier for me, they yell constantly, and…" she said as she burst into tears " Everytime Sir comes home he does nothing but ignore me or anything I have to say !"
Six years had gone by, and with time the pain in children's hearts had deepened too. Anna still wouldn't talk despite the amount of therapy she received. The Nanny who just decided to quit was the 5th nanny quitting that year. She was able to last a month but no more.
The only people who bore that family's pain were the maids, the gatekeeper and the teacher that homeschooled Anna. She was a middle aged woman so it was a bit easy with her.
Back to the present, Thelma put a calming hand on Nanny's shoulder. "You know he works hard. He loves those children. Can't you give it one more shot."
Her eyes filled with guilt and frustration. "I know he does. But I'm only one person! I'm not a mother. I'm not enough. I haven't had enough since Chloe..."
She stopped herself, pressing the sweater to her face to muffle the rest. Thelma's eyes softened, and James looked away respectfully.
Thelma gave a sad sigh. "Maybe you just need a rest. Let's talk to Sir Peter when he comes home."
But she pulled away gently. "No. I'm sorry, Thelma. I've made up my mind. I'll pack my things and leave tonight. Tell him I wish him the best. And tell the children... tell them I tried."
Without another word, she walked up the stairs, her sobs trailing behind her like a haunting melody.
James cleared his throat. "Should we call Mr. Kavinsky?"
Thelma hesitated. "No... let him come home first. He deserves to hear it in person."
Peter Kavinsky returned home well past sunset. His suit jacket was still crisp, but his tie hung loose, and his face bore the wear of a man constantly racing against time. Kavinsky Airlines had grown into a national powerhouse in just six years. With over 100 planes in its fleet and dozens of domestic routes, Peter had not only created one of the country's most efficient airlines, but he had also inspired a generation of entrepreneurs.
Yet for all the awards, the interviews, the late-night strategy sessions with Jay, and the packed board meetings with top investors, Peter always felt a gnawing emptiness when he came home.
Tonight was no different. He dropped his briefcase by the entrance and was immediately greeted by Thelma.
"Welcome home, sir."
Peter managed a tired smile. "Thank you, Thelma. Is everything alright?"
Her hesitation said it all.
"It's the Nanny," she said softly. "She left."
Peter's brows furrowed. "Really? Again? I thought she'll even last a year at least."
James stepped in, his voice steady. "She quit this afternoon. Said she couldn't handle it anymore. She left crying, sir."
Peter exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Did something happen to the kids?"
"She tried her best." That's all she said sir.
Peter's shoulders sagged. "Where are they now?"
"Upstairs. I tucked Anna in. The adults didn't say anything."
Peter looked toward the staircase, guilt crawling up his spine. "I should've been here."
"You're doing your best sir." Thelma said as she looked up at him
Peter nodded slowly. "I'll look into a new nanny tomorrow."
By morning, the house felt heavier. The absence of the nanny lingered in the quiet corners.
Jay stopped by later that afternoon, a tablet in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other. "Big day today—three investors from New York signed on. We've got new routes opening next quarter, and that AI scheduling system we piloted last month? Full implementation across the board."
Peter nodded absently, seated at the edge of the living room couch. He watched Anna through the tall windows as she sat silently in the garden, her sketchbook on her lap, drawing something only she understood.
Jay followed his gaze. "Still nothing from her?"
"Not a word in six years."
Jay set down the tablet. "You need help, Pete. A real support system. You can't do this all on your own."
Peter rubbed his face. "I don't even know where to start."
"I'll let a member of the PR team put out a search for a Nanny again. Maybe of motherly age. She may be more comfortable with a real adult. Peter nodded.
Kavinsky Airlines made national headlines again, praised for their sustainable aviation fuel investments and a new partnership with a major European carrier. Peter was invited to speak at global summits. He graced magazine covers. Celebrities flew on Kavinsky's signature silver fleet.
But back at home, Peter lived in fragments.
A new nanny, Elise, arrived. She was patient, well-trained, and had a calming presence that the children slowly warmed to.So they decided to give it a shot.
One Thursday afternoon, Peter was scheduled to meet a journalist from a major publication at the Kavinsky Tower rooftop lounge. It was more PR than necessity—show face, shake hands, talk about innovation. He wore his best suit but left the tie off. Casual charm, as his publicist insisted.
The journalist was running late, so Peter stood near the glass edge of the rooftop, staring at the skyline. Jets cut through the clouds above—his jets.
So someone came to deliver some food which had been ordered. When she arrived, she saw a familiar face.
"Peter?"
The voice stopped him cold. Soft. Feminine. Familiar.
He turned slowly.
Ashley.
She stood in a black hoodie, her hair caught gently in the wind. Six years hadn't changed her much—still beautiful, still poised, still carrying that air of unresolved stories.
"Ashley," Peter said evenly.
She took a step closer. "I didn't know you'd be here. I'm here to deliver the food." He said nothing.
She studied him for a long moment. "You've done well for yourself. Kavinsky Airlines. It's everywhere."
Peter gave a faint nod, his gaze returning to the skyline.
Ashley's smile faded. "How are you?"
"Busy."
"The kids?"
"They're fine."
A beat of silence passed.
"I still owe you a lot. I appreciate what you did for me back then."
Then he turned then, meeting her eyes. And for a moment, something flickered. Something that might have been old affection or just memory.
But it passed.
He stepped away from the railing, brushing past her.
"Goodbye, Ashley. And, It's Mr Kavinsky to you."
She reached out as if to stop him, but he didn't turn back.
"Rude as always." She mumbled to herself.
The glass doors closed behind him with a soft hiss.
Ashley stood alone at the edge of the rooftop, staring at the place where he had just stoo
d.
They both were struggling but now he's doing well for himself and there she was , delivering food for a company just to survive.