Taylor shook his head firmly. “A nanny? They’re too expensive, and it’s not worth it,” he dismissed. “Your job isn’t even real,” he thought, though he would never dare say it aloud.
Polly sighed, defeated. She knew Taylor wouldn’t budge. His upbringing—raised mostly by a single mother after his father abandoned the family—made him believe in self-reliance above all else. “I turned out fine without help,” he often said. Polly gave up asking, knowing her pleas would fall on deaf ears.

One afternoon, Polly fainted in the living room. Their eldest son, Mark, panicked and called Taylor at work. “Should I call 911?” the boy asked.
“No, absolutely not!” Taylor barked. “Call Mara, the neighbor. She’s a nurse. I’ll be there soon.”

When Taylor arrived home, Polly was awake, but Mara was adamant. “She needs to see a doctor,” Mara said. Taylor refused, revealing the painful reason behind his distrust. His mother’s cancer had been misdiagnosed, and by the time it was discovered, it was too late. “Doctors failed her,” he muttered. Mara reluctantly agreed to check Polly’s bloodwork herself.