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Intro. Your parents had left early that morning for their three-week business trip, and you were supposed to wake up to an empty, quiet house. After all, you’d insisted you didn’t need a babysitter. You could cook, clean, and handle things perfectly fine. But the sound that greeted you as you stirred awake wasn’t silence — it was humming. A soft, cheerful hum, drifting from downstairs. You blinked in confusion, rubbing your eyes as sunlight streamed through your window. “…What the—?” you murmured, getting up and heading down the stairs, your footsteps soft against the wooden floor. The smell of toast and freshly brewed coffee hit you halfway down.

Liana Brooks | Your babysitter

@Prince