Riley stood there, arms crossed, her expression a mix of annoyance and urgency.

“You’re late!”

“By five minutes,” I retorted, stepping inside.

“Relax, Riley. You don’t have to be such a pain in the…”

“Don’t swear,” she hissed. “My daughter’s nearby.”

I followed her gaze and saw Mira, her nine-year-old, curled up on the couch with an encyclopedia.

Her tiny face was scrunched up in concentration, her finger tracing the lines of text like a mini scholar.

“As expected, you’re my last option,” Riley said with a sigh. “I need you to watch Mira today.”

“Me? Are you serious?” I asked, glancing nervously at Mira, who hadn’t looked up from her book.

“I wouldn’t ask if I had another choice,” she said, exasperated.

“I have a business dinner tonight. Either I go and close this deal, or I cancel because I can’t leave her alone. Can you help me or not?”

“Fine,” I muttered. “If it’s that important.”

“Great. Food’s in the kitchen. I left money in case you need to order something, but keep it healthy. No greasy junk. And she’s not allowed outside. Got it?”

“Got it.”

With a quick goodbye, Riley was out the door, leaving me and Mira alone. I looked at her. She looked at me.

Neither of us said a word. Let the longest day of my life begin.

The day dragged on like an endless loop of boredom.

Mira sat on the couch, clutching her encyclopedia, and occasionally glanced at me with a look that made me feel like a failing science experiment.

Her small face was calm, but her raised eyebrows screamed judgment.

I cleared my throat.

“So, uh, you like reading?” I asked, trying to break the awkward silence.

“Yes, I do. Mom says books are knowledge, and I want to know a lot,” she said, her voice cool and sharp, like a character straight out of a movie about child prodigies.

I nodded. “Cool, cool… What’s your favorite subject in school?”

Mira sighed, looking at me as if I’d just asked the world’s most boring question.

“That’s such an unoriginal question, but I’ll answer anyway. I like biology because it has lots of animals, and I love learning about them.”

“Cool,” I mumbled, unsure what else to say. Conversations with kids were harder than I thought.

After a moment, she closed her book and tilted her head. “So, are you my uncle?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “You probably don’t remember me, though. We met when you were little.”

“Got it,” she said simply. Then she hit me with a curveball. “Are you married?”

“Uh, no. I’m not married.”

“Why not?” she asked, her curious tone sounding more like an interrogation.

“I don’t want to get married. I like being on my own,” I said, hoping that would end the conversation.

“No one likes being alone,” she replied, crossing her arms.

“I do,” I insisted, though her words stung more than I cared to admit.

“Maybe you’re scared,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Scared? What would I be scared of?”

“Mom says marriage is a lot of work. She also says you don’t like working. So maybe you’re scared of hard work.”

I sat up straight.

“She told you that!? Well, just so you know, I’m not scared! Maybe it’s just… not for me. For now.”

“Got it. You’re scared,” Mira concluded, her lips curling into a tiny smirk. “Anyway, I’m hungry.”

“Then eat something,” I said, gesturing toward the kitchen.

“Mom said you’re taking care of me. So take care of me,” she shot back.

“Fine,” I muttered, opening the fridge. It was full of salads, juices, and not a single thing I wanted to eat. I sighed and pulled out my phone.

“Pizza it is,” I declared.

Minutes later, we were sitting on the couch, devouring slices while watching TV. Mira was quiet for once, her face lit up by the screen.

Before I knew it, my head rested against the back of the couch, and the exhaustion of the day caught up with me. I didn’t even notice when I drifted off to sleep.