The Hardest Job In The World

Silvia Saige steps into Sofie Marie’s living room that doubles as a daycare. Toys carpet the floor, a bright patch of early-morning chaos. Sofie smiles, pushes a stack of blocks aside on the couch, and jokes that she’s "entering her office." Silvia smiles, a faint, distracted curve of her mouth. She looks drawn, shoulders tight. Sofie thanks her for coming early and suggests they get to know each other before Silvia picks up her daughter. They make small talk. Silvia offers the obligatory praise of the daycare. Sofie returns the compliment, saying how much joy kids like hers bring. Tension lingers beneath the pleasantries. Sofie narrows her eyes. "You look like you could use a break." Silvia exhales, admits the weight on her shoulders—the long hours, single-mother stress, fraying nerves. Sofie nods. She knows the grind; she’s raising her own little one alone. A charged silence settles. Their glances linger longer than politeness allows. "Time for yourself is important," Sofie says, voice dropping low. "And sex. You need to get laid." She holds Silvia’s gaze. "I can help with that, if you’d like." Silvia’s breath catches. A slow nod, almost startled. "That’s the best advice I’ve heard all week." The toys, the daycare buzz, everything else drops away—two women choosing a private, urgent release.