Sweet Isa: The Nanny Who Changed Our Lives

Episode 2

Isabela finished tending to Caio's knee with the same care as someone sewing a memory. Then, she stood up, disheveled, with her hands stained with antiseptic, but with a light heart.

"All done, young man. Now you're officially braver than many adults out there."

Caio smiled with red cheeks and stayed there, sitting on the kitchen counter, as if he didn't want her to leave.

But time was short. She was just a candidate. She couldn't invade spaces that weren't hers.

"Thank you for letting me help," she said with a discreet nod, and was accompanied to the door by the cook and the cleaner, who had already been charmed.

Outside, Isabela sat on the entrance step with the folded resume on her lap. She didn't know if she had done the right thing or if she had crossed the line.

Inside the house, the selection process continued. Gael sat in the office, one by one, interviewing the other candidates. None held his gaze for more than two seconds. None knew the children's names. None seemed... alive.

Gael was already tired. Fourth interview of the morning and nothing but canned speeches. Rules, schedules, "professional posture." They seemed to be applying to take care of robots.

When Isabela entered the room, wearing the same simple clothes as before and a slight smile, he merely pointed to the chair with his hand, without raising his eyes from the papers.

"Your full name?"

"Isabela Fernandes Lima."

"Experience?"

"Six years with children of different ages, sir. But if you count from when I help my mother take care of my nephews, maybe it's about ten."

He raised his eyes, finally looking at the girl. Calm, confident, different look.

"Have you worked with... difficult children?"

She smiled.

"There are no difficult children, sir. There are only children who haven't been listened to enough."

Gael raised an eyebrow. Isabela adjusted in her chair and continued:

"Luna is 13 years old. She's observant and sensitive. She needs someone who listens to her without interrupting."

"Lucca is 9. Full of energy and questions. He needs challenges and space to be himself."

"And Caio... is only 4. He still lives in a world of fantasy. He needs affection, routine, and cuddling—sometimes, just cuddling."

Gael interrupted her, intrigued:

"Did you research the names beforehand?"

"No. I paid attention as I arrived. I observed them in the garden. The way they move, how they look... children talk all the time, even without opening their mouths."

Silence dominated the room for a few seconds.

"What are your rules?"

"Safety first. Respect second. But after that… a happy child is a child who gets dirty, runs, jumps in the pool with clothes on, plays tag in the backyard, makes a blanket fort, wears flip-flops in the dirt, plays with the hose in the summer…"

She smiled again, with that calm glow in her eyes:

"Children need good memories to carry when they grow up. And that's not built only with 'yes, ma'am' and 'you can't do that.' Sometimes, breaking a rule is worth more than following all of them. As long as no one gets hurt, of course."

Gael stared at that woman for long seconds. She was different. She was… alive. The first to speak with passion. But he kept his tone cold:

"Thank you, Isabela. We'll be in touch."

She got up, smiled politely, and left. Outside, she sat on the bench at the entrance of the mansion, waiting, even without knowing if she would have an answer.

Hours later, with no candidates left, Gael was alone in his office. He looked at the resumes on the table without interest until he heard footsteps running down the hall.

The door opened forcefully.

"Dad," said Luna, breathless. "Can we talk to you?"

Lucca and Caio were right behind, all too serious for the time.

Gael put down his pen. "What is it?"

"The lady," said Lucca. "Isabela. The one who took care of Caio. We liked her."

Caio nodded with such conviction that he seemed like an adult. Luna went further:

"She's different. And you saw. We felt good with her. Please, Dad... don't let her leave."

Gael stared at his children for a moment, as if trying to decipher what that meant to him as well. But he only replied:

"I'll think about it."

He looked at his children. Then at the door, where Isabela had left.

And he thought, in silence, how long it had been since he had seen those smiles in his house.

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