Jess lingered just outside the daycare door longer than she meant to. She kept glancing at the window, at the tiny glimpse of Macy’s rounded cheeks as she was carried away by the caregiver. Her daughter—best friend—looked so small, so fragile. Jess’s heart twisted. The weight of her unborn baby shifted inside her, a dull reminder that soon, her hands would be full in ways she could barely imagine.
She let out a breath and turned to leave—only to nearly bump into someone.
“Whoa—sorry about that,” said a warm, lightly surprised voice.
Jess stepped back and looked up. The man in front of her was maybe in his early thirties. Tousled dark-blond hair, tired blue eyes with laugh lines, a strong build like someone who used to go to the gym more often than he did now. He wore a plain grey hoodie, jeans, and carried a tiny backpack covered in dinosaur stickers.
“Oh—no, I’m sorry,” Jess said quickly, one hand protectively resting on her belly. “Didn’t see you there.”
“New to the daycare?” he asked, nodding toward the window.
Jess nodded, glancing back through the glass. “Yeah. First day. That’s… Macy. My daughter.”
The man smiled. “Ah. You looked like you were about to go back in there and take her home.”
Jess gave a weak laugh. “You saw that, huh?”
“I remember the feeling.” He adjusted the strap on his shoulder. “My son Cody's been coming here a couple months now. First week was rough, but it gets better. They’re good here.”
Jess blinked. “Cody?”
He nodded. “Little guy with the cowlick and no fear.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “I think he just handed Macy a toy car.”
The man smiled, his expression softening. “Then they’re already off to a better start than we were.”
Jess let out a laugh this time—small, but genuine. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
He chuckled. “Cody screamed so loud that first day I swear I thought a window cracked. But now? He barely waves goodbye.”
Jess’s smile lingered a moment longer before a new awkwardness crept in. “I’m Jess, by the way.”
“Ben,” he replied, offering a hand. She shook it. Firm grip, warm. “Good to meet you, Jess.”
The Routine Begins
From that first day on, it became habit.
Every morning after drop-off, Jess and Ben would bump into each other near the daycare entrance—or maybe not so coincidentally anymore. Some days they’d talk for a few minutes, other days they’d grab a coffee from the place across the parking lot. They’d sit outside, sharing parent stories—even if Jess only had Macy and hadn’t yet given birth.
Ben never questioned the timing. Never asked how someone Jess’s age (she looked barely older than twenty-one) already had a toddler and was expecting another. Maybe he figured she was just a young mom. Or maybe he didn’t care.
What mattered was: he listened.
He laughed when Jess described Macy’s habit of throwing her sippy cup like a grenade. He winced when she talked about pregnancy aches. He offered advice—never pushy, just gentle comparisons from his experience with Cody.
He was also—Jess noticed—very much alone. No wedding ring. No partner ever mentioned. And his eyes always had that tired softness parents share when they’re doing it all on their own.
And he never looked at her like she was broken.
Unspoken Understandings
They didn’t flirt, not really. Not at first. There was an ease to their time together—two people standing at the edge of chaos, bonding over spilled milk and sleepless nights.
But there were glances.
When Ben laughed too hard at something she said, he rubbed the back of his neck like he wasn’t used to smiling that wide. Jess, meanwhile, found herself playing with her sleeve hem or tucking her hair behind her ear when he complimented her laugh.
It wasn’t a relationship.
Not yet.
But it was something.
And for a woman who not that long ago had been a teenage boy, and then a confused, reluctant mother… the quiet, natural rhythm of Ben’s presence was comforting.
He didn’t try to fix anything.
He just stood beside her while she held it all together