**Diary Entry**
Charlie and I lived alone—just us two. His father existed, of course, but he wasn’t part of our lives. Charlie didn’t ask about him yet. In school, kids might compare parents, but at his age, toys mattered more than dads.
I’d rather not think about how I’d once been madly in love with the man who became Charlie’s father. When I told him about the pregnancy, he casually mentioned his wife—along with the fact he wouldn’t leave her because her father was his boss. He’d be left penniless, and apparently, I wouldn’t want that. His advice? Get rid of the baby. No child support, either. And if I tried anything, well… it wouldn’t end well for me.
So I walked away. Raised Charlie on my own. He turned out kind—that was enough.
I teach primary school, and Charlie goes to nursery. We didn’t need anyone else.
After New Year’s, a new P.E. instructor started at school. Tall, fit, always grinning. Every single teacher—most of the staff—flocked around him. I kept my distance. Maybe that’s why he noticed me.
One afternoon, as I left school, a Range Rover pulled up. The P.E. teacher—Daniel—stepped out, swinging the passenger door open. “Hop in,” he said cheerfully.
“It’s just a short walk,” I said hesitantly.
“Faster by car, even if it’s close.”
I hesitated but slid into the seat. He asked for my address.
“I don’t know it. Just the nursery number.”
“Nursery?” He looked confused.
“My son’s,” I clarified, gripping the door handle. “I’ll walk.”
“You have a son? How old?”
“Charlie. Five.” I opened the door.
“Wait. Let’s go.” He turned the key.
I shut the door. Fine. He could drop me off. Nothing would come of this—why would a man want a single mum when there were plenty without baggage?
“If you’re not in a hurry…” I sighed.
“No rush. No wife, no kids,” he said bluntly, as if reading my thoughts.
“Bad temper, then? Or just scared of commitment?” I teased.
“Feisty. Didn’t expect that.” He grinned. “Just never worked out. And you? That quiet act’s deceiving.”
“Regret offering the lift? Turn here—that’s the nursery.”
The car stopped. “I’ll wait,” he said as I stepped out.
I paused. “Don’t. We live nearby. I don’t want Charlie asking questions. You understand?” I shut the door firmly.
He drove off. Ten minutes later, walking home with Charlie, I sighed—relieved, disappointed. Of course. Who’d want a ready-made family?
But the next day, Daniel waited again. “Thought I’d run off when I heard about Charlie? Wrong.” He nodded to the car. “Nursery?”
I smiled. When Charlie saw him, he studied Daniel with the same suspicion I had, then looked at me.
“My colleague, Daniel. From school. Get in,” I said, forcing brightness.
Charlie climbed silently into the backseat, staring out the window.
“Where to?” Daniel asked, turning.
“Somewhere close. No child seat—we’ll get fined,” I said for Charlie.
“How about the arcade? Too cold for the park. Charlie, game?” Daniel grinned.
No reply. Daniel chuckled and drove off.
At school, whispers followed me. Daniel took his time—dinner at mine, leaving early. The third time, he stayed. I barely slept, checking the clock, terrified Charlie would walk in.
“Relax. He’s sharp. He’ll adjust,” Daniel murmured at dawn, pulling me close.
I slipped away. Charlie wouldn’t wake early for school, but today—of course—he did. When he walked into the kitchen, I was flipping pancakes; Daniel sat at the table.
“Morning,” Charlie said warily.
“Washed up? Eat.” I served Daniel first—Charlie noticed.
“Pancake race?” Daniel challenged.
“Why?” Charlie deadpanned.
“Just fun.”
Charlie chewed slowly. No competition.
I was proud he didn’t cave but ached knowing he disliked Daniel.
“Your birthday’s coming. What d’you want? Robot? RC car?”
“A puppy.”
“A robotic one?”
“A real one,” Charlie scoffed.
“We’ve talked about this,” I cut in. “Puppies need care. We’re out all day—”
“Then I don’t want anything.”
“Eat up. We’ll hit the toy shop,” Daniel said.
March turned icy again. At the mall, I hunted for cheap shoes—Charlie outgrew everything—while Daniel showed him toys. Only one transformer sparked interest, but I dragged Charlie to try coats.
At the car park, a grubby furball darted underfoot. Daniel swore.
“Almost stepped on it!”
Charlie scooped up the shivering pup.
“Put it down! It’s filthy!” I snapped.
“No!” He clung tighter.
“Fine. We’ll wash it,” I muttered.
“Or we’ll buy a healthy one next weekend,” Daniel said, reaching.
Charlie bolted—straight into a reversing car.
“Charlie!”
The bumper clipped him. He sat, unhurt, still clutching the pup, tears streaming.
“Watch your kid, love!” the driver snapped.
“No harm done,” Daniel said.
At home, we washed the pup—fluffy, sweet. The vet said he was fine.
That night, Daniel arrived with roses. “Sorry. I overreacted.”
“Leave,” I said.
“Who’ll want you with a kid like—?”
I shoved him out.
Charlie played with the pup, beaming. “Mum, look! He’s licking me!”
“Who’s ‘he’?”
“Smile. Short for Smiley.”
As I watched them, I wondered—when would happiness find me? Not with Daniel. But if Charlie was happy… maybe that was enough.
