A poor mother works on Christmas Eve with her daughter when a billionaire appears and surprises them. Christmas Eve arrived cold and silent. Jenna wiped the marble floor of the room, focused, the bucket of water beside her was already dirty. Her back achd. Her hands were red from scrubbing. Her blonde hair fell over her face, damp with sweat, but she couldn’t stop.

It was the only job she had managed to get in weeks. If she did it well, maybe the company would call her again. Maybe January would be less difficult. Maybe. Daisy sat in the corner of the room, drawing on a crumpled paper. The 5-year-old girl was tiny, too skinny for her age, blonde like her mother, with clear blue eyes that sparkled even when she was tired.

She wore a thin, worn out coat. But she didn’t complain about the cold. She never complained about anything. Mommy, can I help you?” Daisy asked, dropping her pencil. Jenna looked at her daughter and smiled, exhausted. “You help me just by being quiet, sweetie.” But Daisy stood up and picked up a small cloth that was next to the bucket.

“I want to really help.” Jenna felt a pang in her heart. A 5-year-old child shouldn’t be working on Christmas Eve. She should be home, opening presents, playing. But their life wasn’t like that. Okay, Jenna said quietly. You can clean over there right next to the door, but be careful. All right. Daisy smiled, a small, proud smile, and started wiping the wall with all the seriousness in the world.

They worked in silence, mother and daughter side by side. The house around them was huge, luxurious, and completely empty. It looked like a museum. Everything was in place. Everything shown. The furniture was modern and expensive. The walls white, the floor gleaming, but there was no life. There were no pictures. There was no clutter.

There was nothing to suggest that anyone actually lived there. Jenna finished the room and picked up the bucket. She went to the kitchen to change the water. She stopped at the dining room doorway and froze. The table was set. A large ungolden roast turkey still steaming. Potatoes ogratan with melted cheese on top. Dark gravy in a porcelain bowl. Fresh bread rolls.

Green salad. Crystal goblets. Fabric napkins perfectly folded. Everything prepared for only one person. One plate. One fork. One glass. Jenna stood still staring. Who eats Christmas dinner alone at a table this big? Daisy appeared behind her, curious, holding the damp cloth. Mommy, what are you looking at? Before Jenna could answer, the girl saw it and ran. Daisy, don’t go near.

But the girl was already next to the table, her eyes wide, shining with wonder. So much yummy food, her stomach rumbled loudly. In the silence of the house, the sound echoed. Jenna heard it and felt a pain in her chest that almost knocked her to the floor. They had eaten stale bread for breakfast. That was all.

Nothing for lunch, and there wouldn’t be anything when they got home. Daisy couldn’t take her eyes off the food. Her small hands gripped the edge of the table. She looked at her mother, then at the food again, then at the empty house around them. And then with the brutal innocence of a child who doesn’t understand shame, she spoke loudly.

Can we stay with you? Jenna froze. Daisy, come here right now. But the girl continued, pointing at the food. There’s nothing at home. The silence that followed was heavy and suffocating. Jenna felt her face burn. Shame arrived like fire. Her hands trembled. Her eyes stung. She wanted to disappear. Daisy, come here now.

Her voice came out harsh, low, broken. The girl lowered her head. Sorry, Mommy. Jenna took a deep breath. It wasn’t her daughter’s fault. She was just a child. A hungry child. Come on, sweetie. Let’s finish the job. She took Daisy’s hand and was about to pull her back when she heard a voice behind her. You can stay. Jenna turned, startled.

A man was standing at the entrance to the dining room. Tall in a dark, well-tailored suit, short hair, serious face, handsome in a cold way. He must have been in his early 30s. Dark, intense, but tired eyes. The kind of tiredness that doesn’t go away with sleep. Matthew Hail, the owner of the house. Jenna turned pale.

Her heart raced. Mr. Hail, I I didn’t know you were home. I’m so sorry. He raised his hand, cutting off her apologies. It’s fine. His voice was calm and deep. I came back early today. He looked at [music] the table at the dinner prepared for no one at Daisy hiding behind her mother. [music] And then he said simply, “I was going to eat alone anyway.

” Jenna blinked confused. “Sir.” Matthew took a step forward. You can stay for a little while. Have dinner with me. Mr. Hail, we can’t [music] accept. You can. He looked at Daisy. Do you like potatoes? Daisy peeked at him. Then at the table, and nodded slowly, shily. Matthew went to the cupboard, got two plates, and started serving.

Golden potatoes, a piece of turkey, warm bread, salad. He did it all in silence as if it were themost natural thing. He placed the plates on the table and pulled out two chairs. Sit down. Jenna was paralyzed. She couldn’t believe it, couldn’t speak. But Daisy had already emerged from behind her and rushed to the chair, excited.

Matthew served a plate for himself and sat at the other end of the table. Jenna, still in shock, slowly sat down next to her daughter. Dinner began in silence. Daisy ate slowly, savoring every bite as if it were a gift. Her small eyes sparkled. She smiled between forkfuls. Jenna barely [music] touched her food. She was too nervous.

Her hands trembled holding the fork. Matthew cut a piece of turkey and ate, observing the two of them. He didn’t know why he had done this. It didn’t make sense. But when he heard the little girl say, “There’s nothing at home.” Something inside him broke. He knew loneliness. He lived inside it. But hunger.

Hunger was different. “What’s your name?” he asked, looking at the girl. “Daisy.” “Daisy,” Matthew repeated. “Pretty name,” she smiled shily. “And do you like to draw?” “I saw you with paper earlier.” “Very much,” Daisy brightened up. “I draw flowers and houses and big trees. She draws very well, Jenna said quietly. Matthew nodded, then looked at Jenna.

And you? How long have you been doing cleaning work? Jenna swallowed hard. About 3 years. Is it hard? She gave a tired smile. Sometimes, but it’s what I have. Matthew didn’t answer. He just kept looking. There was something about her. The way she cared for her daughter, the dignity she carried even when she had nothing.

He respected that. The dinner continued more lightly. Daisy talked about her drawings. Matthew asked which flowers she liked best. Jenna relaxed a little, allowing herself to smile. It was strange, but it was good. For the first time in years, Matthew’s table wasn’t empty. And for the first time in months, Daisy laughed while eating.

When they finished, Daisy wiped her mouth with her hand and looked around. She saw the folded cloth napkins on the table. She picked one up and tried to fold it the same way. It came out crooked, crumpled, but she placed it carefully next to Matthew’s plate. “Thank you,” she said, her voice sweet. “You are very kind.

” Matthew stared at the napkin, small, imperfect, made with pure affection. something inside him, something that had been buried for years and began to stir. He picked up the napkin and put it in his suit jacket pocket. Jenna stood up, still disbelieving. Her eyes were glistening. Mr. Hail, I don’t know how to thank you. Seriously, thank you.

Matthew stood up, too. He looked at Daisy, who smiled at him with those clear, innocent eyes, and then he said, “Merry Christmas.” Jenna took her daughter’s hand and left, too emotional to speak. Matthew remained alone in the dining room. He looked at the table, at the dirty plates, at the leftover food, and at the empty space where they had been sitting.

For the first time, the house didn’t feel so cold. He touched the napkin in his pocket and smiled. A small, almost invisible smile, but real. The next day, arrived gray and cold. Jenna woke up early as always. The apartment was freezing. The heater had broken 2 months ago, and she didn’t have the money to fix it. She put her coat over her pajamas and went to the kitchen, her bare feet on the cold floor.

She opened the refrigerator and stopped, almost empty, one egg, half a loaf of bread wrapped in a plastic bag, two small bruised apples she had bought at the corner market. That was all they had. Jenna closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her hands shaking on the refrigerator door. She couldn’t break down. Not now. Not in front of Daisy.

She grabbed the egg and the bread. She was going to make a small omelette, share it with her daughter, and hope someone called with work. Any work, anything. Good morning, Mommy. Jenna turned quickly, forcing a smile. Daisy was at the kitchen door in her pajamas, her blonde hair messy, rubbing her clear blue eyes. Good morning, love.

Jenna tried to sound cheerful. Did you sleep well? I did. Daisy walked to the table and climbed onto a chair. I dreamed about yesterday’s food. Jenna felt her heart clench. You did? Uh-huh. About the potatoes. Hand the turkey. Daisy smiled. It was yummy even while sleeping. Jenna turned her back, pretending to look for something in the cupboard.

She didn’t want her daughter to see the tears in her eyes. That’s good, sweetie. That’s good. What are we going to eat today? Omelette with toast. Daisy looked at the open refrigerator. She saw the emptiness. The girl was small, but she wasn’t foolish. There’s only one egg. Yes, but we can share it. Daisy was quiet for a moment, her feet swinging from the chair.

Then she said, “With that strange seriousness only children have, can we share it really small so it lasts longer?” Jenna closed her eyes. Her hands trembled as she cracked the egg into the frying pan. She didn’t answer because she didn’t trust her ownvoice. She made the omelette in silence. She cut it into two unequal pieces.

The bigger one for Daisy, of course, always the bigger one for Daisy. She served it with the toast that was already hard on the edges. Daisy ate slowly, chewing each piece carefully, making it last. Jenna could barely swallow. Every bite seemed to weigh a ton. When they finished, Daisy took her plate to the sink. Serious. Thank you, Mommy.

It was good. You’re welcome, my love. Jenna washed the dishes, the two plates, the two forks, the frying pan, and looked at the refrigerator again. Only the two apples remained, one for today, one for tomorrow. And after that, she didn’t know. She went to the small table in the living room where she kept the bills.

She opened the drawer and pulled out the envelopes. [music] Rent late. Electricity late. Cut off notice. Water paid, but only because they had already threatened to cut it off before. Internet cut off two weeks ago. Jenna ran her hand over her face, trying to think, trying to organize her thoughts, trying not to panic.

She picked up her cell phone and dialed the number she already knew by heart. Clean Express. Good morning. Hi, this is Jenna. I was wondering if there’s any work today. Silence on the other end, the sound of keys being typed. Let me check here. Jenna gripped the phone tightly. Her heart was racing. Her fingers were white from the pressure.

Look, Jenna, there’s nothing for today. Sorry. Nothing at all. Not even half a day’s work. Anything? Nothing? Hardly anyone requested cleaning. People traveled for the holidays. Everyone’s away. What about tomorrow? Nothing scheduled for tomorrow either. Maybe things will get better next week. Jenna closed her eyes. Next week? How is she supposed to wait until next week? Okay, thank you anyway.

Sorry, Jenna. I’ll call if something comes up. She hung up and stood still, holding the phone. The cracked screen reflected her tired face. Daisy was on the living room floor drawing on old paper she had picked up from the building’s recycling bin. She didn’t know there was no food. Didn’t know there was no money.

Didn’t know her mother was one step away from collapsing completely. Jenna took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to break down. She wasn’t. She always found a way. always. But for the first time in a long time, she didn’t know what that way was. The phone rang. Jenna looked at the screen, thinking it was the company again, maybe with some last minute job, but the number was unknown.

She answered, suspicious. It could be a bill collector. It could be the landlord. Hello, Jenna. The voice on the other end was deep, calm, controlled, masculine. She knew that voice. Mr. Hail. Yes. I can I speak to you for a minute? Jenna jumped to her feet, nervous. Her heart raced again, but for different reasons. Why was he calling? Had he complained about her work.

Was something wrong with the cleaning? Had she done something? Of course. Go ahead, Mr. Hail. Matthew hesitated on the other end. She heard him breathing. I was thinking about yesterday. Jenna felt her face flush. Shame returned like a wave. He was going to say it was embarrassing. That he didn’t want her to work there anymore. That I would like to offer you a permanent job here at the house.

Jenna froze. The world stopped. What? A permanent job? Not through the company. [music] Directly with me. He paused. You would come every day. You would take care of the house. I would pay well. and another pause. Daisy can come with you. Jenna couldn’t speak. The words were stuck in her throat.

Her heart pounded so fast she thought she would faint. Her eyes stung. Her hands trembled. Jenna, are you still there? I I am sorry. I just didn’t expect that. I know it’s sudden, but I need someone. And you do a good job. You’re organized. You’re careful. It wasn’t just that Jenner knew. He had seen. He had seen Daisy’s hunger. He had seen their situation.

And he was offering help in the only way that didn’t feel like charity, employment, dignity, a chance. I accept, Jenna said quickly before he could change his mind, before she woke up from this dream. I accept, Mr. Hail. Thank you so much. Seriously, thank you very much. Good. His voice sounded lighter, almost relieved.

Can you start tomorrow? Yes, I can. What time? 8:00. Perfect. I’ll be there. You can count on it. Until tomorrow, then, Jenna. Until tomorrow. And thank you. Truly, she hung up and started to cry. It wasn’t a cry of sadness. It was relief. It was gratitude. It was the weight of a thousand tons lifting from her shoulders.

It was being able to breathe again. Daisy looked at her mother, dropping her pencil, startled. Mommy, why are you crying? Jenna wiped her face with the back of her hand and crouched down, opening her arms. Come here, sweetie. Daisy ran and threw herself into the hug. Jenna held her daughter tightly, her face buried in her blonde hair. Something good happened, Daisy.

Something very good. What? Mommy got ajob. A real [music] job. Every day, Daisy pulled away, her eyes wide. Really? Really? And you’ll come with me every day. Where, too? To the nice man’s house from yesterday. Remember him? Daisy broke into a huge smile. The kind that lit up her whole face. The one who gave us food. That’s the one.

The girl hugged her mother tightly, laughing. I like him, Mommy. Me, too, sweetie. Me, too. Jenna held her daughter. her eyes still wet, her heart finally managing to beat more slowly. They were going to be okay. For the first time in a long time, she believed it. Before Matthew had always loved silence since childhood, he preferred to be alone.

He read, he studied, he thought. When his parents died in a car accident, he was 23, studying engineering, Matthew shut down completely. He inherited his father’s construction company, small at the time, and plunged into work. He worked 16 hours a day, everyday, weekends, holidays, Christmas. He built buildings, made fortunes, [music] expanded, and forgot what it was like to have someone around.

He had a few girlfriends over the years. They didn’t last long. They complained that he wasn’t present, that he was cold, that he lived for his work. And it was true. Matthew didn’t know how to be any other way. The big empty house was perfect for him. Silent, organized, predictable, no noise, no voices, no interruptions. It was all he knew.

It was all he thought he needed. Silence was comfort, solitude, routine. He didn’t miss anything. Or at least he thought he didn’t until yesterday. Until he saw a 5-year-old girl smiling at him with a crooked [music] napkin in her hand. Until he saw a mother trying to hide her daughter’s hunger with dignity. Until he realized his house was a tomb, beautiful, expensive, impeccable, [music] but dead.

Matthew couldn’t explain why he had called Jenna. It didn’t make rational sense. He didn’t need a permanent maid. [music] He could continue hiring the company. He could continue living alone as he always had. But when he woke up that morning, the house was too silent, [music] too heavy, too empty.

And he found himself thinking about Daisy’s laugh, the way she had folded the napkin, the sparkle in her eyes when she ate. So he picked up the phone [music] and called without thinking too much, because if he thought about it, he wouldn’t call. Now Jenna started the next day. She arrived at 8 on the dot with Daisy by her side, both holding hands.

Both had bathed and put on the best clothes they had, which weren’t much, but they were clean and neat. Matthew opened the door and gave a nod. “Good morning.” “Good morning, Mr. Hail,” Jenna said nervously, her hands gripping her purse strap. “You can call me Matthew,” she blinked, surprised. “Are you sure?” “I am.” “Mr.

Hail was my father.” Daisy took a step forward and waved shily. Hi, Mr. Matthew. Matthew looked at the girl and almost smiled. Almost. Hi, Daisy. Did you sleep well? I did. [music] I dreamed about the potatoes. He blinked, confused. About the potatoes. Uh-huh. They were very yummy. This time, Matthew smiled. A small but real smile. Taz, that’s good.

He showed Jenna the house, explained what needed to be done, where things were kept, how he liked it done, but without pressure, without demands. If you need anything, just let me know, he said, and Daisy can stay wherever she likes. You don’t need to hide her. The house is [music] big. There’s plenty of space.

Jenna looked at her daughter and felt a lump in her throat. Thank you, Matthew. He nodded and went up to the office on the second floor. And that’s where everything changed. Jenna began to clean. She mopped the floor, organized the living room, cleaned the window panes, arranged cushions, dusted. Daisy stayed in the living room, drawing on the floor, surrounded by papers Matthew had left for her.

But it wasn’t silence that filled the house. It was life. The sound of the cloth on the floor, the water running in the sink, Jenna humming softly as she worked, old songs her mother used to sing, and Daisy. Daisy talking to herself as she drew. Daisy asking about colors. Daisy laughing at something only she understood. Daisy singing along with her mother, offkey and happy.

Matthew was in the office trying to focus on work. He had online meetings, reports to review, contracts to sign, but he heard everything. Every little laugh, every soft step on the floor below, every childish question floating up the stairs. So, Mommy, can I draw a big house? You can, sweetie. And a giant tree. You can. And a dog.

And a cat. And little birds. You can draw anything you want, Daisy. Matthew stopped typing. He tilted his head, listening, concentrating on those sounds that shouldn’t mean anything, but they did. And he noticed something strange, almost disturbing. He was smiling. It wasn’t a big smile. It was small, almost imperceptible, but it was there, tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He got up and went to the office door. He openedit slowly, took a peek down the stairs. Daisy was on the living room floor, surrounded by colored papers. She drew intently, her tongue sticking out, her blonde hair falling on her face. She mumbled to herself, telling a story only she knew. Jenna was in the kitchen cleaning, humming softly.

The house was alive. Matthew went back to the office but couldn’t concentrate because for the first time in years he didn’t want silence. He wanted to hear more. The days passed like this. Jenna came every morning, brought Daisy, cleaned, organized, took care of the house as if it were her own, and little by little the house transformed.

Not in appearance. It was already perfect, but in atmosphere, in energy, in feeling, it had life [music] now. Daisy drew everywhere. Matthew found papers all over the house, colorful flowers, crooked houses, giant trees with strange birds. He didn’t throw them away. He kept them all in a drawer in his office. Jenna cooked sometimes.

[music] Nothing elaborate, just fresh coffee in the morning or a sandwich at lunchtime when Matthew forgot to eat. She didn’t have to do it. But she did and he didn’t complain. Matthew started coming home earlier. Before it he stayed late at the company office. He avoided going back because there was no reason.

The empty house was just [music] empty. Now there was a reason. He would arrive at six scars, sometimes even earlier. and hear Daisy’s voice. Look, Mommy, I drew you. Oh, that’s beautiful, sweetie. I look very [music] pretty. And this is Mr. Matthew. Matthew paused at the door, listening. And is it? How did you draw him? Tall with a serious face.

But he’s kind on the inside. Jenna laughed softly. [music] That’s true. He is. Matthew smiled on the other side of the door. That smile was getting easier and easier. One day, he arrived and found Daisy on the couch sleeping, [music] a drawing book open on her lap, the marker still in her hand. Jenna was finishing cleaning the kitchen, her back to the living room.

Matthew stopped and looked at the girl, so small, so fragile, so peaceful. He went to the closet, got a soft blanket, and placed it over her slowly, carefully. Daisy moved a little, mumbled something, but didn’t wake up. Matthew stood there for a moment, just watching, observing her tranquil face, her soft breathing, and he felt something strange in his chest.

“Something warm, something good, something he couldn’t name.” Jenna appeared at the kitchen door and saw the scene. Her eyes sparkled, wet. “Thank you,” [music] she said quietly. Matthew just nodded. But when he returned to the office, he leaned against the closed door and took a deep breath. The house was no longer a tomb. It was a home.

And he didn’t know exactly when it had happened, on what day, at what moment. But he knew he didn’t want it to stop ever again. Matthew was in the office when he heard Daisy’s voice coming from the living room. Mommy, look. Look at that truck. He got up from his chair, curious, and went to the window. He looked down.

A cement [music] truck was driving down the street, huge, noisy, with the drum slowly turning. Daisy had her face pressed against the living room window, her eyes wide with wonder. “It’s a big truck, sweetie,” [music] Jenna said, cleaning the shelf nearby. “But what is it doing?” “Crying heavy things. What things?” Jenna hesitated.

She didn’t know exactly. Cement, I think. But why does that thing keep spinning? So it doesn’t So it doesn’t stop. Matthew slowly walked down the stairs. He stopped at the living room door, leaning against the frame. It’s a concrete mixer truck, he said. Daisy turned quickly, surprised. Jenna looked over, too.

Mixer truck, the girl repeated, trying to pronounce it right. That’s right. It carries concrete. Daisy tilted her head, confused. What is concrete? Matthew walked to the window and knelt beside her, getting down to the girl’s eye level. It’s like a paste, gray, wet. [music] They put it inside that drum that keeps spinning.

And why does it spin? Because if it stops, the concrete hardens. It turns into rock. Daisy’s eyes sparkled. Turns into rock. It does. That’s why it needs to keep spinning until it reaches the right place. And what [music] is it used for? to make buildings, houses, bridges, roads. Daisy was silent for a moment, processing.

Then she asked curiously, “Do you know these trucks?” Matthew nodded. “I do. I work with them.” “Really? Really?” Daisy smiled, excited. “Do you drive them?” Matthew let out a low laugh. A real laugh. No, but I see them working almost every day. That must be so cool. It’s interesting. Jenna stood near the shelf, the cleaning cloth forgotten in her hand.

She watched the scene with a pleasant tightness in [music] her chest. Matthew was crouched down, talking to Daisy as if it were the most natural thing in the world, explaining patiently, smiling. Truly smiling. She had never seen him like that. In the following days, Daisy started asking more questions. Lots ofquestions.

Matthew was having coffee one morning when she appeared in the kitchen with a paper in her hand. Mister Matthew, I can I show you something. He lowered his cup. Of course. It was a drawing of a building, crooked, disproportionate, but clearly a building. It’s a giant building with lots of windows. It turned out very well, he said sincerely.

How many floors does it have? Daisy counted on her fingers, looking at the drawing. By six. Six floors is a good size. She sat in the chair next to him, swinging her legs that didn’t reach the floor. How do you build a real building? Matthew took a sip of coffee, thinking about how to explain it simply. First, you dig a hole in the ground.

A hole? Yes. Very deep. Big. What for? to put the foundation in. Daisy frowned. [music] What’s that? It’s the base, the groundwork. It’s what holds the whole building up. It has to be very strong. Oh. She nodded thoughtfully. And then then you raise the columns, the beams. You make the skeleton of the building like a body’s skeleton. Matthew smiled.

Yes, something like that. The skeleton holds everything up with that cement that hardens with concrete and steel, the two together. And how long does it take? It takes a while. Months, sometimes years, depending on the size. Wow. Years. Yes. Building is slow. You have to do everything right or it falls down.

Daisy was impressed, her eyes wide. Have you ever seen a building fall down? No, because we do everything right. She smiled, satisfied with the answer. Matthew realized he was smiling, too. A small but genuine smile. He couldn’t remember the last time he had explained these things to someone with such patience. Jenner appeared at the kitchen door, wiping her hands on a cloth.

She saw the two of them talking, Daisy’s eyes sparkling, Matthew explaining calmly. She stood there just watching, her chest tight, her eyes starting to get moist. Matthew had never been rude to them, but he had also never been like this, so open, so present, so kind. Another day, Daisy was drawing in the living room when Matthew walked past carrying some papers. “Mr.

Matthew,” he stopped. “Hi, Daisy. Have you ever seen a building being made like me from the beginning?” “I have. I see it all the time. What’s it like? He looked at the papers in his hand, then at the girl. He decided the papers could wait. He sat on the couch next to her. In the beginning, it’s just dirt, empty ground.

Then the big machines arrive. What machines? Excavators, tractors, backho. They make a lot of noise. Daisy dropped her pencil, all her attention on him. And what do they do? They dig. [clears throat] They remove dirt. They clear space for the foundation. And then then the concrete comes. The workers set up the forms, put the steel inside, and then they pour the concrete.

It looks like a mess, but everything has an order. Everything has a right way to do it. And does it grow? It does. Floor by floor, slowly, with patience. And when it’s finished, what happens? Matthew gave a small smile. Then it becomes a place where people live or work or study. It becomes part of their lives.

Daisy was silent for a moment, absorbing it. Then she said, “With that strange seriousness of a child. You must be very important.” Matthew blinked, surprised. Why? Because you make houses for people to live in. Everyone needs a home. He was speechless. That childish simplicity had just hit something deep inside him. Something he had forgotten, the real reason for what he did.

I I guess so, he said quietly. Daisy smiled, satisfied, and went back to drawing. Matthew stayed there a little longer, just watching. Then he stood up and went up to the office, but her sentence kept echoing in his head all day. You must be very important. It had been years since he had felt that way. Jenna was folding towels in the laundry room when she mustered up the courage.

Matthew had just walked past the hallway, returning from the office. She called him shily, nervously. Matthew, he stopped and came back. Hi, Jenna. She held the towel in her hands, hesitant. Can I ask you a question? Of course. Go ahead. She took a deep breath. What do you do exactly? Matthew tilted his head, not understanding.

What do you mean your job? You said you work with buildings, but what do you actually do? He gave a small smile. I build buildings. Jenna blinked. You build them. Yes, I plan, organize, supervise. I make it happen. She nodded slowly, still processing. She imagined he was an engineer, perhaps someone important in the field, but she didn’t want to ask more.

She didn’t want to be intrusive. It must be very difficult sometimes. But I like it. I always have. Daisy loves hearing you talk about it. She comes home and tells me everything you explained. Matthew looked at her, serious, but with softer eyes. She is very curious, smart. She asks good questions. Jenna smiled, proud. She is. since she was little.

There was a comfortable silence between them. Matthew was about to go upstairsagain when Jenna said, “Thank you for having patience with her, for really talking to her.” He looked back. “You don’t need to thank me. I like talking to Daisy.” And it was true. For the first time in years, he enjoyed having someone ask questions, someone interested, someone who made him remember why he had chosen that profession.

Matthew began to pay more attention to Daisy, not on purpose, but naturally, and that’s when he noticed something that bothered him. She drew all the time. Papers spread throughout the living room, on the dining table, on the floor. Colorful, creative drawings full of life and imagination. But the pencils she used were terrible, broken, too small to hold properly, stumps without points.

The markers were dry, failing, leaving smudges instead of lines. The sharpener no longer worked. It was broken, taped together. Matthew watched Daisy struggling to draw a flower, holding a stub of a blue pencil that barely fit in her hand, trying to make colorful petals, and he felt something squeeze in his chest. That wasn’t right.

A girl so creative, so full of imagination, deserved to have decent supplies. The next day, he left work early. He went to a large stationary store downtown. He stood there in the aisle, looking at the shelves full of options. He picked up a box of colored pencils, new, [music] large, with 48 different colors. He picked up a set of markers, fine and thick tips, vibrant colors, a coloring book with beautiful drawings, flowers, animals, landscapes, castles, and a sharpener shaped like a bear.

Cute, colorful with little eyes and everything. He paid for everything, put it in a bag, and drove home, his heart beating faster than it should. When he arrived, Daisy was in the living room drawing as always. Daisy. She looked up, surprised. Hi, Mr. Matthew. You’re home early. I am, and I have something for you. He placed the bag on the table.

Daisy stood up, curious, her eyes wide. What is it? Open it and see. She opened it slowly, as if she were afraid of ruining something. Then she saw it. Pencils. New ones. Lots of pencils. She picked up the box, admiring it. So many colors. 48 and markers also. She pulled out the coloring book and a book to color with princesses and flowers.

And there’s one more thing. She reached into the bag and pulled out the sharpener. A little bear. It’s a sharpener. But it’s a bear. It’s both. Daisy looked at everything on the table. Then she looked at Matthew, her huge blue eyes sparkling full of emotion. All this is for me. Matthew nodded. It is really.

I can keep everything. You can. It’s yours. Daisy stood still for a second, just staring. Then she dropped everything on the table and ran to him, her small arms wrapped around his waist. Daisy’s face pressed against his body, the tight, sincere, pure hug, full of gratitude. Matthew froze. He didn’t know what to do.

He stood there motionless, his arms by his sides, tense, his heart beating faster, his hands trembling slightly. He wasn’t used to this. He didn’t know how to react. But then, slowly, carefully, he raised his hands and returned the hug. It was strange. It was uncomfortable, but it was good. Incredibly good.

Thank you, Mister Matthews. Daisy said, her voice muffled against him. You are the best in the whole world. Matthew closed his eyes. Something inside him, something that had been locked up, forgotten, rusted by years of solitude, began to stir again. To melt. “You’re welcome, Daisy,” he said quietly, his voice. She pulled away, smiling hugely, and ran back to the new pencils.

Matthew stood still, still processing what had just happened. Jenna was at the kitchen door. She had seen everything. Her eyes were wet, glistening, her hand over her mouth trembling. Her face completely emotional. Matthew looked at her. [clears throat] They stared at each other in silence. He didn’t know what to say.

He had no words. Jenna shook her head slowly, smiling through her tears, and whispered, “Thank you.” Matthew nodded, embarrassed, awkward, and quickly went up to the office. But when he closed the door, he leaned against it and took a deep breath. His legs were weak, his heart racing. He could still feel Daisy’s arms around him.

He could still feel the warmth of the hug. And for the first time in a long, long time, he didn’t feel alone. Daisy spent the rest of the day drawing with the new pencils. She made flowers, houses, colorful buildings, giant trees, little birds, and she made a special drawing. Two people, one tall, one small, holding hands.

She colored it carefully, chose the exact colors, did her blonde hair, his suit, and wrote below with her crooked, careful handwriting, “You are my new friend.” She left the drawing on his office desk. Matthew found it later. When he returned to finish some emails, he picked up the paper, looked at it, read it. He felt his chest tighten again.

He ran his finger over the crooked letters, over the simple drawing, over the two of them holdinghands, and he put it away in the same drawer where the folded napkin from Christmas Eve was. in the same drawer where he kept everything Daisy made. Because now those small, simple things meant more than any million-doll contract he had ever signed.

They meant he was no longer living alone in an empty house. They meant that little by little, without realizing it, he was learning to feel again, to care again, to live again. Matthew leaned back in his chair holding the drawing and closed his eyes. And for the first time in years, he felt happy. Simply happy. Matthew woke up to the sound of voices.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t invasive. But it was there, filling the silence that had always dominated that house. He looked at the clock. 7:30 in the morning. Jenna and Daisy had already arrived. He got up, put on a shirt, and walked down the stairs slowly. The kitchen was different, the smell of fresh coffee, the machine on, two clean cups next to the stove.

Jenna was in the living room, mopping the floor, humming softly. An old gentle song he didn’t know. Her voice was low, but pretty, calm. Daisy was sitting at the dining table, surrounded by colorful papers, the new pencils spread out. She was drawing intently, her tongue sticking out. Matthew stood still on the stairs, just watching.

That scene so simple, so common, so alive. He had never realized how dead the house was before. “Good morning,” he said, stepping down the last steps. Jenna turned, surprised, but smiling. “Good morning, Matthew. Sorry if we woke you up.” “You didn’t. I was going to get up anyway. I made coffee. It’s still warm. [music] Thank you. Daisy looked up and waved with a handful of ink. Good morning, Mr. Matthew.

Look how many drawings I’ve made already. He walked to the table. There were at least five papers, flowers, houses, a cat, a butterfly. Did you wake up drawing? Uh-huh. I like to draw in the morning. The colors are prettier. Matthew smiled. They are. He poured the coffee and sat down in the kitchen.

From there he could hear everything. Jenna humming as she cleaned. Daisy mumbling to herself, telling stories to the drawings. The sound of the pencils scratching the paper. Jenna’s soft steps on the marble floor. Matthew closed his eyes for a moment, just listening. It was strange, but it was good. Very good. The days continued to pass like this.

Matthew started noticing the details. Children’s drawings scattered around the house, on the dining table, on the kitchen counter, on the couch, on the entrance sideboard once, even on his office desk. He didn’t complain. He didn’t throw them away. He gathered everything and put it in a box he had set aside just for that.

Jenna’s voice filling the empty rooms. She sang while she worked old songs, some cheerful, others melancholic, but always with that softness that calmed him, that made the atmosphere lighter. And Daisy, Daisy talked non-stop. Mommy, why are clouds white? Because they are made of water, sweetie.

But water is transparent. It is, but when a lot of tiny water gathers in the sky, it turns white. Oh, and why does it rain? Because the clouds get heavy and the water falls. And the sun, doesn’t it dry the water? It does, but it takes time. Matthew smiled, listening to these conversations. Sometimes he stopped what he was doing just to listen better, just to feel that presence.

The house had sounds now. It had movement. It had life. And for the first time, he realized that’s what had always been missing. One day, Matthew left early for an important meeting downtown. A contract meeting, big proposal. Usually, he was focused, excited about this sort of thing. But that day, he could only think about returning home.

The meeting ended in the middle of the afternoon. He drove back fast, anxious. He opened the door and felt it, the emptiness. Jenner and Daisy weren’t there. Their work day was over. They had already left. The house was impeccable as always, clean, organized, perfect, but dead. Matthew dropped his briefcase on the couch and stood still in the living room, looking around.

There were no drawings on the table. There were no voices. There were no soft footsteps. There was none of Jenna’s quiet singing. There were none of Daisy’s endless questions. There was no life. He went to the kitchen, empty, silent. He went to the dining room. Nothing. Only the heavy silence. He went up to the office, sat in his chair, tried to work, but he couldn’t concentrate. Something was missing.

Someone was missing. And then Matthew understood with a clarity that startled him. It was them. He missed them. Matthew stood still, processing that it was strange, uncomfortable. He had lived alone for years. He always preferred it that way. He always thought silence was comfort, was peace. But now, now the silence was just empty.

He looked at the clock. 5:30 in the afternoon. [music] They would only be back tomorrow morning. 15 hours. 15 hours of an empty house. Matthew got up and went to the drawerwhere he kept Daisy’s drawings. He opened it, took a few out, a colorful flower, a giant building, a drawing of the two of them holding hands.

He smiled. A small but genuine smile, and realized something that both scared and warmed him. He didn’t want to live alone anymore. Not like this. Not in this silence. The next day, Matthew woke up earlier than usual. He waited in the kitchen, drinking coffee, looking at the clock. When he heard the key in the door, his heart sped up.

Good morning, Daisy yelled, running in. “Good morning, Daisy. I brought a new drawing already. I made it last night. It’s you again,” she showed him. It was him, tall in a suit, smiling. “Am I happy in the drawing?” You are because you get happy when we arrive. Matthew blinked. He swallowed hard. I do. You do. We can tell.

Jenna appeared at the door, smiling. Good morning, Matthew. Good morning. He looked at her, then at Daisy, then at the house around them. It’s good that you’re here. Jenna tilted her head, noticing something different in his voice. Is everything all right? everything just really good. He couldn’t explain more.

He didn’t have words for it. But Jenna understood. She saw it in his eyes. She saw the way he looked at Daisy. The way he breathed a sigh of relief. She smiled, her heart tight. We like being here, too. Matthew nodded and went to the office, but left the door open to be able to listen. The voices, the laughter, the quiet singing, the life that now filled every corner of that house.

That night when Jenner and Daisy left, Matthew stood at the door. “See you tomorrow?” Jenna said, “See you tomorrow.” “Bye, Mr. Matthew!” Daisy shouted, waving, “Bye, Daisy. Sleep well?” He stayed there until they disappeared around the corner. He closed the door. The house went silent again, but it was different now because he knew that tomorrow they would return, that the house would be filled with life again, and that made all the difference.

Matthew went up to his room, lay down, and looked at the ceiling. He thought about how it was before, the loneliness he no longer even noticed, the emptiness that had become routine. and he thought about how it was now. The drawings, the laughter, the voices, the presence. He didn’t know when exactly it had happened.

But at some point, without realizing it, Jenna and Daisy had stopped being just people who worked there. They had become part of the house, part of his life. And Matthew didn’t want that to change ever again. He closed his eyes, his chest full of something he hadn’t felt in years. It wasn’t just comfort. It was belonging.

[music] It was the beginning of something he didn’t yet have the courage to name, but it was real. And for the first time in a long time, Matthew slept peacefully, knowing that tomorrow the house would be alive again, knowing that he was no longer alone. January arrived quickly. The holidays ended. Christmas was over.

New Years passed. The streets returned to normal. People came back from trips. Life returned to its usual rhythm. Matthew’s company did too. The construction projects that had stopped during the holidays resumed. Meetings flooded his schedule again. Calls all day, contracts to review, decisions to make. Matthew returned to his routine.

He woke up early, worked in his home office until 9:00, left for the company, spent the whole day there. Meetings, site visits, more meetings. Before he stayed late, 7 8 at night, sometimes even [music] later. That’s how it had always been. But now, now it was different. In the first week of January, Matthew left the company at 6:00 in the evening.

The project manager blinked, surprised. Leaving already? I am, but the client meeting. It can be tomorrow morning. Reschedule it. He grabbed his suit jacket and left. On the way, he realized he was driving fast, anxious. He wanted to get home. When he walked in, he heard the voices. Jenna humming in the kitchen. Daisy laughing at something in the living room.

Matthew stopped at the door just listening. He took a deep breath and smiled. “Hi, Mr. Matthew.” Daisy appeared running. “You’re home early.” “I am. Do you want to see my new drawing?” “I do.” She pulled him by the hand to the table. She showed him a drawing of a garden full of colorful flowers.

“It’s beautiful,” he said. “I’m going to make one for you, too, of a giant building.” I would love that. Jenna appeared at the kitchen door, surprised to see him. Matthew, is something wrong? No, I just finished early today. Oh, would you like [music] dinner? There’s some leftover food I made. You don’t have to. I But his stomach rumbled.

[music] Jenna laughed softly. Come on, I’ll warm it up. Matthew sat at the table while she prepared. Daisy stayed next [music] to him drawing, talking non-stop about flowers and colors, and he realized he was happy there, simply sitting, listening, present. The next [music] day, he left at 6:00 again. And the day after 2, and the day after that, it became routine.

Matthew started cominghome earlier every day without exception. The company employees found it strange before the boss was the last to leave. Now he left on time. “Is everything all right, boss?” the engineer asked. “It’s great. It’s just you never leave early.” Matthew gave a small [music] smile. “I have reasons now.” “And he did. He started showing up in the kitchen for no specific reason, [music] just to be near.

” Jenna was washing dishes when he walked in. “Do you need something?” she asked. “No, just came to get water. but he already had a bottle in the office. She noticed. She smiled but didn’t say anything. Matthew grabbed a glass, filled it slowly, drank it [music] slowly, stood there leaning against the counter. “How was your day?” he asked. “Quiet.

” I cleaned the living room, organized the office. Daisy drew all day. “She never gets tired of drawing.” No, since you gave her the pencils, she hasn’t stopped. Matthew smiled. That’s good. Comfortable silence. Jenna returned to washing dishes. He stayed there just watching. The way she worked, calm, careful, how she hummed softly.

He liked it, being close, not being alone. After a few minutes, he said, “Thank you.” Jenna turned. For what? For taking care of the house. For be being here. She blinked, surprised. Her eyes sparkled. You’re welcome, Matthew. We like being here. He nodded and went up to the office, but he came back half an hour later just to get more water.

Jenna smiled. He did, too. Matthew started asking about the drawings. [music] Every time he saw Daisy drawing, he stopped. What are you making there? A castle, big, huge, with towers and everything. And who lives in it? A princess and a nice dragon. A nice dragon. Yes, he protects the castle. Matthew sat next to her.

And what does this dragon look like? Green with big wings and he breathes fire, but only to scare away bad guys. Smart. Daisy [music] smiled and continued drawing. Matthew stayed there just watching. Sometimes he offered suggestions. Sometimes he just listened. And he realized that those moments were the best part of his day. [music] He started looking at the house differently.

Before he saw walls, furniture, empty spaces. Now he saw life. Drawings on the table. Pencils scattered. The blanket Daisy used when she dozed off on the couch. Jenna’s coffee mug always in the same spot on the counter. Life. Small signs that this house was no longer a museum. It was a home. Matthew was in the office when he realized this. He looked out the window.

[music] He saw the garden outside. He saw the living room through the open door. And he understood the house had changed. He had changed. One Saturday morning, Daisy was playing in the living room when she stopped and looked around. How you know what I think, Mr. Matthew? He was reading a report on the couch.

He lowered the papers. What? Your house is happy when we come. Matthew blinked. The house is happy. It is. It smiles. Houses don’t smile, Daisy. This one does. I can see it. She went back to drawing as if she had stated the most obvious thing in the world. Matthew stood still, looking at her.

Then he looked at the house, at the drawings, at the colors, at the life that now filled everything. [music] Your house is happy when we come. He carried that phrase with him all day while working in the office, while eating lunch, while talking to Jenna in the kitchen. The phrase echoed in his head. And he realized that Daisy was right. The house didn’t smile, but he did.

Every time they arrived, every time he heard their voices, every time he saw the drawings scattered around, he smiled. Because for the first time in years, the house wasn’t just a place where he slept. It was a place where he lived truly. [music] That night, after Jenna and Daisy had left, Matthew stood alone in the living room.

He picked up one of the drawings Daisy had left. It was the house with flowers in front and three windows drawn as if they were eyes and a mouth. The house was smiling in the drawing. Matthew ran his finger over the paper. Your house is happy when we come. He put the drawing away with the others, went up to his room, lay down, [music] and thought.

He thought about how it was before, the constant loneliness, the silence, the emptiness. and he thought about how it was now. The voices, the laughter, the presence. He didn’t want to go back to how it was before ever again. Matthew closed his eyes, Daisy’s phrase still echoing. Dante realized something simple yet profound. It wasn’t just the house that was happy when they arrived. [music] It was him.

He was happy. and he no longer wanted to live without that happiness, without that life, without them. The afternoon started normally. Jenna was cleaning the living room. Daisy was drawing at the dining table, humming softly. Matthew was working in the office, but with the door open, listening to the sounds of the house.

Then the sky darkened too quickly. Matthew looked out the window. Heavy dark clouds forming. The windstarted blowing hard, shaking the trees in the garden. A thunderclap echoed loud, frightening. Daisy stopped drawing. Mommy, [music] it’s okay, sweetie. Another thunderclap, louder, closer. Daisy dropped the pencil and ran to Jenna. Mommy, I’m scared.

[music] Jenna dropped the cloth and hugged her daughter. Calm down. It’s just noise. But the rain started, heavy, [clears throat] violent, hitting the windows as if trying to get in. Matthew rushed down the stairs. He saw Daisy clinging to her mother, trembling. [music] Is everything all right here? Jenna looked at him, worried. It is.

She just got scared. Another thunderclap. Daisy flinched. [music] I want to go home, she said tearfully. Jenna looked out the window. [music] The rain was torrential now, lightning slicing through the sky, thunder shaking the walls. “We need to go, Matthew,” she [music] said nervously. “Sorry, but no,” he took a step forward.

“Don’t go out now. It’s dangerous. But we live far away if the rain gets worse.” “All the more [music] reason. Stay here until it passes.” Jenna hesitated. She looked at her [music] daughter, at the storm outside, at Matthew. I don’t want to be a bother. He shook his head. You are not a bother.

He paused, took a deep [music] breath. Please stay. I enjoy your company. The silence that followed was different from the others. Jenna looked at him. Really looked. She saw something in his eyes she had never seen before. Vulnerability. [music] Are you sure? She asked quietly. I am. Another thunderclap. Daisy held on tighter to her mother. Jenna nodded.

Okay, we’ll stay until it passes. Matthew breathed a sigh of relief. I’ll prepare something for us to eat. The rain kept falling. Matthew went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He had chicken, vegetables, pasta. He wasn’t an excellent cook, but he knew the basics. He started preparing dinner, grilled the chicken, soautayed the vegetables, cooked the pasta.

Jenna appeared at the door with Daisy still clinging to her. Do you need help? No, you can stay [music] with her. Matthew, I can. I know, but today I’ll do it. You two rest. Jenna stood there watching. Seeing Matthew cook was strange, but it was good. Daisy finally let go of her mother and went to the window watching the rain from afar. Sh.

That’s a lot of water, she said. It is, Matthew agreed. But it’s safe inside here. Is your house strong? Very strong. Nothing gets in here. Daisy seemed to calm down a bit. Half an hour later, dinner was ready. Matthew set the table. He put out three plates, three glasses, cutlery, napkins. He lit a candle in the center of the table.

Not because the power was out, but because it looked nice. “You can come,” he called. Jenna came [music] with Daisy. She stopped when she saw the set table. Matthew, sit down. They sat. Matthew served. Grilled chicken, vegetables, pasta with simple sauce. Daisy tasted it and smiled. And out. It’s yummy. Thank you. You can cook. I know the basics.

Jenna ate slowly, observing everything. the table, the candle, Matthew across from her, Daisy next to her, calmer now. It felt like it felt like a family. The word came before she could stop it, and it hurt. It hurt because it wasn’t true. It hurt because it could never be, but it felt like it. They ate in silence for a few minutes.

The rain continued outside, but inside it was warm. Safe. “Mommy, can I have more?” Daisy asked. “You can, sweetie.” Matthew served her more. He smiled, watching the girl eat heartily. “Do you like to cook?” Jenna asked. “Not much, but it’s not bad.” “Have you lived alone for a long time?” he nodded.

“I have since my parents died.” Jenna blinked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” “It’s okay. It was a long time ago. How old were you?” “23.” Wow, so young. Matthew gave a small sad smile. I was, but life goes on, right? It had to go on. And you never met someone married? He shook his head. I dated a few times, but it never worked out. I worked too much.

I didn’t know how to be present. And now, he looked at her directly in the eyes. Now I’m learning. Jenna felt her face heat up. She looked away. Daisy, don’t play with your food, sweetie. The girl was stacking pieces of vegetables on her fork. Sorry. Matthew smiled. She can play. Today she can. After dinner, they stayed in the living room.

Daisy lay down on the couch, tired. Jenna covered her with a blanket. The girl closed her eyes and fell asleep quickly. Matthew and Jenna sat in the armchairs facing each other. The rain was still falling calmer now. “Thank you,” Jenna said quietly. “For letting us stay, for everything. You don’t need to thank me.” She looked at Daisy, sleeping, then at him. “You’ve been so kind to us.

I don’t know how to truly thank you. You don’t have to thank me. I He stopped, searching for words. I needed you here as much as you needed to be here. Jenna felt her eyes sting. I never expected to meet someone like you. Like me. Kind. Patient. Who cares? She took a deepbreath. After my husband died, I thought I thought the world was just bad people.

People who don’t care. Matthew remained silent. Waiting. Jenna continued, her voice trembling slightly. He was a good man, hard worker, did everything for me and Daisy. She wiped away a tear. But the company he worked for, they didn’t care. They didn’t care about him. What company was it? Jenna looked at him.

Hail Construction. Matthew felt the floor disappear beneath his feet. His heart stopped. The air grew heavy. What? His voice came out. Hail Construction. It’s a big construction company. He worked there as a laborer. Matthew couldn’t speak. He could only listen. Jenna continued, her eyes distant, lost in memories.

He was pressured all the time. Impossible targets. He had to finish projects quickly, always quickly. He worked overtime every day. >> [music] >> came home late, tired, exhausted. She wiped away another tear. I told him to rest, to talk to his boss, but he was afraid. Afraid of losing his job. We needed the money, so he endured it. Matthew felt his throat closing up, his chest tightening.

He couldn’t breathe properly. He was stressed all the time, slept badly, ate badly. I watched him wasting away, but I didn’t know how to help. Jenna closed her eyes until one day he had a heart attack on the construction site in the middle of work. Silence. But I got the call at the hospital. He had already died when he arrived.

Her voice broke. The company said it was a fatality, that they couldn’t do anything, that it wasn’t their fault. She looked at Matthew, her eyes red. They didn’t help at all. Nothing. Not with the funeral, not with money, nothing. I was left alone with a baby. No money, nothing. Matthew was motionless, frozen.

Guilt crushing him in a way he had never felt. It was his company. The pressure was his fault. The targets were his. The death was his fault. I I’m so sorry, he managed to say, his voice breaking. Jenna wiped her face. It’s not your fault, Matthew. You have nothing to do with it. I just sometimes I need to talk about him so I don’t forget. But it was his fault.

Everything was his fault. Jenna looked at him, noticing the heavy silence. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I made things awkward. No, you can talk. I just He couldn’t continue. Jenna interpreted the silence as discomfort, as if she had said too much. as if she had crossed a line.

I think the rain has stopped, she said, getting up. We can go. Jenna, thank you for dinner and for letting us stay. She went to Daisy and gently woke her up. Come on, sweetie. Let’s go home. Jenna, wait. But she was already at the door gathering her things. Daisy, sleepy, held her mother’s hand. A good night, Matthew. And they left. The door closed.

Matthew was left alone in the living room, motionless, in shock, guilt consuming him alive. He didn’t sleep that night. [music] He sat in the office staring at the wall, thinking about Jenna’s husband, the man who died working for him, thinking about the targets, the pressure, the overtime, everything he had built, everything he had created.

It had killed a man and left a woman alone with a child. Jenna, Daisy, God, Daisy. Matthew put his head in his hands, and for the first time in years, he cried. The next day, Jenna arrived later than normal. Matthew was in the kitchen, waiting. Good morning, she said formerly, distant. “Good morning!” heavy silence.

Daisy went to draw in the living room, sensing the tension. Jenna stood still, holding her purse. Matthew, I need to say something. He looked at her, his heart heavy. Say it. She took a deep breath. I think it’s best if I don’t work here anymore. The words were like a punch. What? Why? I I said too much yesterday.

I made things awkward and I don’t want it to be uncomfortable for you, Jenna. It wasn’t. It was. I saw it. You got quiet. I crossed a line. So, it’s better this way. No, wait, please. But she was already turning away. [music] I’ll finish the week to give you time to find someone else. Jenna, sorry, Matthew.

And she went to the living room to start working. Matthew was left alone in the kitchen, the world crumbling around him. He had lost. He had lost before he even realized how much they meant. And it was all his fault. It always had been. Matthew couldn’t work for the next few days. He couldn’t sleep properly, [music] couldn’t eat, couldn’t think about anything else.

Jenna’s husband’s story was destroying him inside. He lay in the dark, hearing her words echoing. He was pressured all the time. Impossible targets. Worked overtime every day. Had a heart attack on the construction site. The company said it was a fatality. The guilt was suffocating, heavy, unbearable. He had built that system.

He had created that pressure. He had killed a man and he had destroyed a family. Jenna Daisy Matthew got out of bed in the middle of the night, went to the office, turned on the computer, and started searching. He opened the company’s files from the last5 years, HR reports, employee records, workplace accident documents.

He started reading everything, every page, every line. And what he found made him sick. Excessive demands, impossible targets, absurd deadlines, constant pressure from supervisors, vague threats of firing if they didn’t meet the targets, unpaid overtime, [music] exhausted workers, frequent accidents.

He read testimonies from employees who had left, ignored complaints, denied requests for help. My supervisor said if I didn’t finish by Friday, I’d be out. I worked 14 hours straight. No break, no lunch. I asked to go to the doctor. They said there was no time. Matthew ran his hand over his face, feeling nauseious.

How had he not seen this? How had he let it get to this point? He continued searching. He found the name. Jenner’s husband, Daniel Carter, laborer, worked for 3 years at the company. Matthew opened his file. Overtime record, 60 hours of overtime in the last month, 58 the month before, [clears throat] 62 the month before that.

Filed complaints. I need a day off. I’m exhausted. Supervisor’s response: impossible. The project needs to be finished. Another complaint, I’m not feeling well. Chest pains. Response: Go to the doctor on the weekend. Matthew closed his eyes, his hand trembling on the mouse. Daniel had asked for help, and he was ignored until he died.

Matthew got up and went to the window. He looked out at the dark garden. And for the first time in his life, he hated himself. He hated what he had built. He hated what he had allowed. He hated the man he had become. But hatred wouldn’t change anything. He needed to act. Matthew scheduled an urgent meeting with the entire board of directors.

On Monday morning, everyone was in the conference room. 10 people, directors, managers, supervisors. Good morning, Matthew said, walking in. Good morning, boss. What happened? You look tired. I know. He sat at the head of the table. I need to talk about something important. Everyone went silent. Matthew took a deep breath.

I spent the last few days reviewing our processes, our policies, our work culture. Is everything okay? The operations director asked. No, it is not. Tense silence. I discovered things that shouldn’t be happening. Excessive demands, abusive targets, lack of human care, too much overtime, constant pressure. The project manager shifted uncomfortably.

Matthew, these are normal practices in the sector. Everyone does. No. Matthew slammed his hand on the table. I don’t care what everyone does. [music] I care about what we do. And what we’re doing is wrong. But the targets, the targets killed a man. Absolute silence, Matthew continued, his voice firm. Daniel Carter, laborer.

Worked here for 3 years. died of a heart attack on the construction site, exhausted, worn out because we pressured him until he couldn’t take it anymore. Matthew, that was my fault. He looked at every person at the table. Our fault. We created this system. We allowed it and we are going to change. The financial director frowned.

Change how? Matthew picked up a folder and opened it. I made a list of immediate changes. He began to read. Workload limit. No one works more than 44 hours a week. No mandatory overtime. If needed, it’s voluntary and paid double. Matthew, this will delay. I don’t care. Next. He read the next item. Medical and psychological support. We will hire an occupational health team, doctors, psychologists.

Available to all employees. Free. This will cost I don’t care how much it costs. People’s lives are worth more. More items. Mandatory breaks. No one works more than 4 hours straight without a rest. 1-hour lunch break. No exceptions. Human and responsible culture. We will train all supervisors. Empathy, communication, care.

If someone doesn’t adapt, they leave. He closed the folder. and we are going to review all targets. If they are impossible, we change them. The priority now is people, not numbers. The operations director shook his head. Matthew, you’re being emotional. This isn’t feasible. It is feasible, and it will happen.

He looked firmly. I will not build anything else on anyone’s suffering. I need to learn to listen more, and so do you. What if the investors don’t agree? Then we lose the investors, but we don’t lose any more lives. Heavy silence. Matthew stood up. This is not negotiable. Whoever doesn’t agree can leave, but the company will change.

Starting today, he left the room, leaving everyone in shock. In the following days, Matthew worked non-stop. He hired psychologists, occupational doctors, HR consultants specialized in well-being. He changed contracts, revised targets, cut absurd deadlines. He fired two supervisors who refused to change.

He raised salaries, created benefits, implemented rotating days off, and he visited all the construction sites personally. He talked to laborers, masons, assistants. He asked how they were, what they needed, how he could improve things. At first they found it strange. They were suspicious. Butlittle by little they started talking. Time we’re less tired.

We can eat lunch properly now. The supervisor stopped shouting. There’s a doctor if we need one. Matthew listened to everything, took notes, changed more things because it wasn’t just about fixing the company. It was about fixing himself. It was the greatest act of repair in his life. It wouldn’t bring Daniel back.

It wouldn’t erase the past. It wouldn’t take away Jenna’s pain, but it would prevent it from happening again. And maybe, just maybe, it would make him a better man. A man Jenner could respect, a man Daisy could admire. 3 weeks later, Matthew was in the office when he received an email. It was from a laborer, someone he had talked to at one of the construction sites.

Mister Hail, thank you for the changes. My wife says I’m happier. My son says I play with him more. Thank you for caring. Matthew read and reread the email and he felt something warm in his chest. It wasn’t forgiveness. It wasn’t redemption, but it was a start. He opened the drawer and took out Daisy’s drawing. You are my new friend. He looked at it for a long time.

Hand whispered to himself, “I’m going to become someone who deserves this. Even if Jenna never came back, even if Daisy never drew for him again, he was going to be better. Because now he understood it wasn’t just about building buildings, it was about building lives. And he had failed at that.

But he wouldn’t fail again, ever again. Matthew was in the office when the phone rang. He looked at the screen, unknown number. He answered, his heart racing. Hello, Matthew. It was Jenna. He jumped to his feet. Jenna. Hi. Silence on the other end. Then she said, her voice low. Do you still need someone to work at the house? Matthew closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

The relief was so strong it almost hurt. I do. I always have. Another silence. Can I come back? You can. Please do. She took a deep breath. But it has to be different now, Matthew. professional, respectful, without without me talking too much, without crossing lines. Jenna, I need the job, but I need boundaries to protect myself and Daisy. He swallowed hard. All right.

The way you want it. Then I’ll come back tomorrow. Tomorrow at 8. See you tomorrow, Matthew. She hung up. Matthew held the phone, his heart beating fast. She was coming back. He had one more chance. Jenna arrived the next day punctually. Daisy came along quieter than usual. Good morning, Jenna said formally. Good morning.

I’ll start with the living room. Of course, she went to work. Matthew stood there wanting to say something, but he didn’t know how. Daisy sat at the table drawing in silence, not talking, not asking questions, not smiling. Matthew felt his heart clench. He had broken something and he didn’t know if he could fix it.

The first few days were tense. Jenna worked in silence, professional, distant, polite, but cold. Matthew respected it. He didn’t pressure her. He didn’t try to force conversation, but he watched. He saw how she avoided looking him in the eyes. How she left the kitchen when he entered. How she kept her distance. And it hurt. Daisy was different, too.

She still drew, but she left the papers on the table. She no longer showed them to him. She didn’t ask about buildings. She didn’t smile. Matthew missed those moments. He missed them both. A week later, he came home early. Daisy was drawing. He stopped near the table. Can I see? She looked at him hesitant, then pushed the paper toward him.

It was a garden full of flowers. It’s beautiful, he said. Thank you. Silence. Matthew sat next to her. Daisy, are you mad at me? She shook her head. No. Then why don’t you talk to me anymore? She looked at her own hands. Mommy got sad because of something. It was after that night. Matthew felt his chest tighten. It wasn’t your fault or your mother’s.

It was mine. Daisy looked at him serious. Can you fix it? I’m trying. Then keep trying because mommy is happier when she comes here. She went back to drawing. Matthew stood still processing. Mommy is happier when she comes here. He had to try harder. Matthew started coming home earlier every day.

He appeared in the living room when Daisy was drawing. Can I see? And she would show him. Hesitant at first, but little by little relaxing, he asked about the drawings, about the colors, about the stories. Is this flower special? It is. It glows in the dark. That’s incredible. And little by [music] little, Daisy started talking again, smiling, being herself.

Jenna saw everything from afar, and something inside her started to melt. Two weeks later, Matthew was in the kitchen when Jenna walked in. “Do you need something?” she asked. “Just came to get coffee.” She nodded. He stood there. Then he said quietly, [music] “The changes at the company, they are working.” Jenna stopped.

“What changes?” “I changed everything.” After that night, he took a deep breath. I changed the targets. I set our limits. I hired doctors, psychologists. I changed thewhole culture. She turned surprised. [music] Why? Matthew looked at her. Because of what you told me about your husband, what he went through. Bors.

I don’t want anyone else to go through that ever again. Jenna stood in silence, her eyes glistening. You did that because of Daniel. because of him. Because of you, because I realized I was wrong. He took a step forward and that I needed to change. Her eyes became moist. Matthew, I know it doesn’t change the past. It doesn’t bring him back, but I needed to do something. She wiped away a tear.

Thank you for caring. I cared, Jenna, very much. They stood there looking at each other and for the first time in weeks the distance seemed smaller. After that things changed slowly. Naturally, Jenna started talking more about Daisy, about life, about small things. Matthew listened. Really listened.

He asked questions. He cared. One evening, the rain started heavily again. Daisy became nervous. I think we’ll have to wait, Jenna said. Stay for dinner, Matthew said. Please, she hesitated, then nodded. All right. They ate dinner together, the three of them. Daisy talking non-stop. Jenna smiling, Matthew genuinely laughing, and realizing that this was what he wanted most.

The dinners began to happen more often. Once a week, then twice, then three times. Matthew cooked. Jenna helped. Daisy set the table proud. They talked about everything, about the day, about plans, about dreams. Daisy wants to be an artist when she grows up, Jenna said. Really? Matthew looked at the girl. I do.

I’m going to draw pretty houses and giant buildings. You’ll be great. Can you teach me about buildings? I can whenever you want. Daisy smiled hugely. Jenna looked at Matthew and saw something different in him. He was no longer the closed off and distant man. [music] He was present, someone who cared, and she realized she liked him. Not as a boss, as a man.

Matthew was also noticing things. How Jenna’s smile lit up the room. How her laughter was the best part of his day. How anxiously he waited for their arrival. How much he missed them when they left. Jenna was no longer just the maid. She was no longer just a mother in need. [music] She was someone he admired for her strength, for her dignity.

She was someone he respected, for her choices, for her courage, and she was someone he wanted near, always. One evening after dinner, Daisy fell asleep on the couch. Matthew covered her. [music] Jenna came into the living room. She loves sleeping here, Jenna said quietly. She can sleep here whenever she wants. Jenna smiled.

You’ve changed a lot, [music] Matthew. I have. You have. You were so closed off. And now you’re different. It’s because of you two. She [music] looked at him surprised. What do you mean? You taught me how to live again, how to feel, how to care. He took a deep breath. I didn’t know that’s what was missing until you arrived. Jenna felt her heart race.

Matthew, I know it’s still complicated. I know I [music] messed things up, but I pause. I like having you here more than I should. She was silent. Then she said softly, “I like being here, [music] too. We like it.” They stood there looking at each other. And Matthew realized that something [music] had changed.

It was no longer boss and employee. It was something more, something real, something he didn’t want to lose ever again. Jenna gave a small smile and went to pick up Daisy to take her home. But before leaving, she looked back. Matthew. Yes, thank you for everything, for being you. He nodded speechless. [music] And when the door closed, he stood there alone in the living room, but not feeling lonely because he knew that tomorrow they would return.

And that every day the distance between them got smaller. Every day he got closer to something he never thought he would have again, a family, a home, love. Matthew went up to his room, his heart lighter than it had been in years. And for the first time, he allowed himself to dream. To dream of a future where Jenna and Daisy were not just visitors, where they were a permanent part of his life, where they were his and he was theirs forever.

Matthew spent the whole night awake, thinking, deciding, planning. He knew what he needed to do, but he was afraid. Afraid of messing everything up. Afraid of losing the two people who mattered most. But he was even more afraid of not trying, of letting life pass him by, of continuing in that strange situation where Jenna worked for him, but meant so much more.

He didn’t want to mix things up anymore. He didn’t want her to be his employee. He wanted her to be free and his. The next morning, when Jenna arrived, Matthew was waiting in the kitchen. Good morning, she said. Good morning, Jenna. Do you have a minute? I need to talk to you. She stopped, worried. Did something happen? No, nothing bad. I just need to talk.

Jenna looked at Daisy, [music] who was already drawing in the living room. All right. They sat at the table. Matthewintertwined his hands, nervous. I’ve been thinking a lot these past few weeks about you, about Daisy. About everything that happened. Jenna waited, her heart racing, and I realized something. He looked her in the eyes.

I don’t want you to work for me anymore. Her face went pale. What, Matthew? Did I do something wrong? No, that’s not it. He raised his hand. You’re perfect. The job is perfect, [music] but I don’t want to mix things up anymore. mix up work and feelings. Jenna was motionless. Matthew took a deep breath and continued. I want to guarantee Daisy’s education, school, supplies, everything she needs until [music] college if she wants.

I want to do that. Matthew, I can’t accept and I don’t want you to work here as an employee anymore. Tears began to well up in her eyes. Why? Matthew stood up. [music] He walked to the other side of the table. He crouched down in front of her, meeting her gaze. And he said simply and truthfully, “Because I want you in my life.” “In another way.

” Jenna held her breath. “I don’t want you to be here because you need the money. I want you to be here because you want to, because you like it.” He squeezed her hand. Because we mean something to each other. Her tears began to fall. I want to try something real, Jenna. No roles, no hierarchy, no obligation, he squeezed her hand. Just you and [music] me.

Trying building something together. For real, she cried unable to speak. You don’t have to answer now, he said quickly. You can think. Yes, Matthew blinked. What? Yes. She wiped her tears, smiling. I want to try. Are you sure? I am. He let out a relieved laugh. Aren’t you scared? I am very much.

She held his hand tightly. Scared of getting hurt, of hurting Daisy. But she looked toward the living room where her daughter was drawing, then looked back at him. But when we’re here, I feel at home, and it’s been so long since I felt that. Matthew felt his eyes sting. Then let’s try. Let’s They stayed there holding hands in silence until they heard small footsteps.

Daisy appeared at the door holding a drawing. Why are you crying? Jenna laughed, wiping her face. We’re not crying, sweetie. We’re happy. Happy crying. Yes, that’s a thing. Daisy didn’t understand, but she shrugged and walked over to Matthew. I made a drawing. want to [music] see? I do. It was the three of them in the house with a huge smiling son.

Matthew looked at the drawing. Then at Daisy, [music] then at Jenner. It’s perfect. It’s us, Daisy explained. Together. We’re going to be together now, right? We are, Matthew said. Forever. He looked at Jenna. She nodded, smiling through her tears. forever. Daisy smiled hugely and threw herself into his arms. Matthew caught her, hugging her tight.

Jenna stood up and came closer. Daisy reached out an arm to her. Jenner joined the hug. The three of them there together embracing. Matthew closed his eyes. He felt Daisy’s weight in his arms. [music] He felt Jenna’s warmth beside him. He felt his heart so full it almost hurt. A family beginning to be born slowly in the right time in the right way.

Later, when Daisy went back to drawing, Matthew and Jenna stayed in the kitchen. I want to do this right, he said. No rush. Your way. Our way, she corrected him. Our way. He held out his hand. Jenna looked at it. She hesitated for a second, then she took it. Matthew intertwined his fingers with hers.

For the first time, for real, it was simple, small, but it meant everything. “Thank you,” Jenna said quietly. “For what? For not giving up, for changing, for seeing us. Thank you for letting me try. For giving me [music] a chance.” They stood there holding hands, looking out the window. Outside, the sun was shining, the trees were swaying.

Life continued, but inside something new had begun. Something still fragile, but real strong. True. Matthew looked at Jenna. She looked back and they smiled because they knew it wouldn’t be easy, that there would be challenges, that there would be fears, but they were going to try together. 6 months later, the house was no longer silent. It was full of life.

Drawings on the refrigerator, toys on the floor, laughter echoing through the hallways. Daisy ran barefoot through the house. Jenna sang in the kitchen. Matthew worked in the office, but always with the door open because he didn’t want to miss a single sound, a single moment. One evening, the three of them were on the couch watching a movie.

Daisy in the middle, almost asleep. Jenna leaning against Matthew’s shoulder, his arm around her. “Are you happy?” she asked quietly. “Very? And you? Very?” They stayed there in comfortable silence. Matthew looked at Daisy sleeping at Jenner by his side [music] at the house around them that was no longer empty. And he realized he had found what he had always been searching for without knowing it. It wasn’t success.

It wasn’t buildings. Debt wasn’t money. It was this. That moment, those people, that quiet and deep love. It was family. Itwas home. It was everything. On the refrigerator, a new drawing by Daisy was hanging with a magnet. Three people holding hands, smiling, and underneath, written in crooked letters, “My family.” Matthew saw that drawing every day, and every [music] day he smiled, because it was true.

They were a family now, built not of blood, but of choice, of care, of patience, of love that grew slowly, day after day. Matthew kissed the top of Jenner’s head. She looked up smiling. “I love you,” he said for the first time. She held his face with both hands. I love you too. And they kissed softly, slowly, right? While Daisy slept between them, safe, loved at home. The end.

The house that was once a silent tomb, now breathed. And Matthew, who was once alone, now had everything. He had a little girl who called him her friend. He had a woman who loved him truly. He had a family and he would never let them go forever.