---
Chapter 1
Ethan hated the mall.
It wasn't that he was above it--he just didn't have the patience for it. The crowds, the chaos, the over-designed storefronts trying to trick you into spending. It was all noise to him. Inefficient. Irritating.
He checked his watch. Not impatient, just... conscious of time. Always.
Jessica was browsing candles, holding one up to her nose, inhaling deeply. He watched her, arms folded, feet planted. Broad-shouldered, solid. Calm. But his jaw was tight.
"You could've ordered this stuff online," he said, his tone casual but clipped. "Would've saved us the trip."
Jessica smiled without looking over. "It's different in person. You can't smell through a screen."
Ethan exhaled through his nose. "You've got twenty-five at home."
That earned a glance. She arched a brow. "You counting now?"
He shrugged. "I keep track of things."
And he did. He tracked the bills. The deadlines. The schedules. The house repairs. The insurance premiums. It was how he made sure things stayed stable. Controlled.
Predictable.
Jessica moved on to the next display, her sundress swaying as she walked. He followed--not hovering, just staying close. Protective.
"I read about something new here," she said after a beat. "A lounge. For men. 'Daddy Day Care.' Cute, right?"
Ethan frowned. "The hell kind of name is that?"
She laughed. "It's a place to drop off husbands while their wives shop. TVs, snacks, massages. Sounded relaxing."
He raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like a playpen."
Jessica looked at him then, smiling with a kind of private amusement. "You could use some relaxing."
"I'm relaxed," he said, a touch too fast.
"You're tense in the shower," she teased.
He smirked, but didn't argue. She wasn't wrong. It had been a long quarter. Work stress. Family obligations. His whole life ran on tight tolerances, and letting go wasn't something he did. It wasn't who he was.
Jessica stepped closer, brushing a hand down his chest.
"Just an hour," she murmured. "Try it. Worst case, you sit in a leather chair and ignore everyone."
He paused.
She looked up at him, eyes wide, sweet. And underneath, something else. Something intent.
He exhaled. "Fine. But if there's a ball pit, I'm walking out."
Jessica laughed and laced her fingers through his. "No ball pit. Just a little... space. Where someone else takes care of everything."
Ethan let her lead him.
He didn't know what he was walking into.
Didn't know how much he needed to let go.
Not yet.
---
Chapter 2
They reached the far end of the mall, where the noise tapered off and the lighting shifted--softer, calmer, like a spa.
Ethan noticed the storefront before she pointed it out. It stood out from the garish window displays around it: a wide pane of frosted glass, clean lettering in muted gold.
Daddy Day Care
Gentlemen's Lounge & Behavioral Spa
He slowed down. Tilted his head. "Behavioral spa?"
Jessica squeezed his hand. "Just branding. It's cute."
He didn't reply. The frosted glass made it impossible to see inside. The door was seamless, like it would open only if it wanted to. Something about it put him on edge--not in a bad way. It just felt... curated. Controlled. Like it was watching him back.
Jessica led him to the door and pressed a small silver button. It chimed, low and musical.
A moment later, the door slid open with a whisper.
Inside, the lobby was calm and softly lit. Pale gold walls, cream furnishings, tasteful potted plants. It smelled like sandalwood and clean linen. The air was cooler. Quieter.
Behind the reception desk stood a young woman--tall, elegant, and composed. Her uniform was fitted, powder-blue with sharp tailoring and delicate piping. Her name tag read Avery.
She smiled as they approached, tablet in hand.
"Mr. Walsh," she said warmly. "Welcome. We've been expecting you."
Ethan blinked. "You have?"
"Of course," Avery said. "Jessica completed your intake profile this morning."
He glanced at his wife, who only smiled.
Avery tapped on her tablet. "We'll be starting you with our Gentle Conditioning track. It's our most popular introductory experience."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "What does that involve?"
"Comfort," she said simply. "Support. Quiet. And space."
He hesitated. The room felt still around him, like stepping into a pause. And Avery--despite her warmth--had a confidence that unsettled him a little. She spoke with the same tone his accountant used when giving him perfectly reasonable news he didn't want to hear.
Jessica rubbed his back. "Just try it. If you hate it, you never have to come back."
Avery slid the tablet toward him. "Just a signature, Mr. Walsh. Everything else is taken care of."
He exhaled, took the stylus, and signed.
"Perfect," Avery said. "Now, if I can just collect your phone and wallet--we'll keep them secure during your session."
He paused, but handed them over. "Just for an hour," he told himself. "It's not like I'm checking in. It's not a spa day--it's... an experiment."
The drawer she placed them in was soft-lined, the motion precise. Then she tapped something on her tablet.
"Lena will be out to escort you shortly."
Jessica leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Be good."
Before he could roll his eyes, the door behind the desk opened--and out stepped Lena.
---
Chapter 3
Lena emerged like the room had summoned her.
Tall, poised, with chestnut hair pinned in a low twist and a uniform that matched Avery's in color but hugged her differently--more wrap than jacket, more flowing than crisp. She looked like the human embodiment of calm.
"Ethan," she said with an easy smile, taking his hand like they were old friends. Her grip was warm and firm. "Let's get you settled."
He opened his mouth--maybe to ask a question, maybe to crack a joke--but her hand was already gently guiding him through a side door. Jessica gave a small wave as he looked back, a little amused, a little proud.
---
The hallway was quiet, the lights low and indirect. A subtle scent drifted through the air--something floral, maybe lavender. Lena walked with quiet confidence, her voice low and unhurried.
"Your wife mentioned you've been carrying a lot of tension lately."
He gave a dry laugh. "Yeah, well. Who hasn't?"
She didn't challenge him. Just nodded. "That's exactly why we begin with the basics."
They stopped in front of a pale wooden door with brass fixtures. She opened it to reveal a softly lit chamber--muted earth tones, soundproofed walls, a gently bubbling tub inset into the floor. The steam curled upward in lazy ribbons. A plush robe and towel waited on a bench nearby.
Ethan blinked. "You serious?"
Lena smiled. "Completely. Ten minutes in warm water will do more for your nervous system than an hour of small talk."
He hesitated, then exhaled. "Fine. Just ten."
She closed the door behind her, giving him privacy.
---
The water was perfect.
Not just warm--weighted. The temperature hugged his skin in a way he didn't expect. As he slid in, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The tension in his shoulders slackened. His lower back, usually tight, began to soften. It was a full-body exhale.
Hidden nozzles released slow tendrils of scent--eucalyptus, citrus, something grounding. The lights above the tub dimmed, shifting gradually to amber.
When Lena returned, he was still half-submerged, eyes closed.
"Take your time," she murmured, setting something down beside him. "This is only the beginning."
A warm robe. Soft slippers. A glass of cucumber water.
When he emerged, his skin was flushed, loose, relaxed in a way that felt suspiciously like vulnerability.
She led him next into a softly padded room with heated stones tucked into the cushions, ambient tones thrumming low through the floor. She applied warm compresses to his shoulders, then his neck, then his hands. Each muscle gave in without a fight.
Ethan barely noticed the way he started breathing slower. Or how his answers shortened to nods and soft hums.
Lena's voice stayed just above a whisper. "No pressure. No performance. No role to fill."
She smoothed a warm, scented balm over his temples and let her fingers linger.
"Just feel good. That's all you need to do."
---
Chapter 4
The robe was impossibly soft.
Ethan sank into it, letting the thick fabric wrap around his shoulders like a second skin. It wasn't just comfort--it was held. The kind of softness that invited surrender, that whispered: you don't have to carry anything right now.
He moved slower than usual. Not because he was tired, but because he didn't want to disturb the quiet that had settled over him. Every part of him felt looser. He hadn't realized how much of his body was constantly bracing until it wasn't.
Lena stood nearby, hands loosely clasped in front of her, watching him with a small, approving smile. Her presence didn't press--she let the silence speak first.
"How are you feeling?" she asked finally, voice low and velvety.
Ethan shrugged, but even that was gentle. "Better than I expected."
She nodded. "Good. That's what we're here for."
He glanced at her, then around the softly lit space. "Is it always this... quiet?"
Lena tilted her head. "Do you want it to be?"
He chuckled. "I usually hate quiet. Makes me feel like I should be doing something."
She stepped closer, just enough for her scent--something warm and herbal--to brush his senses again.
"And right now?"
He looked down at his hands, loosely curled at his sides. "Right now it feels... earned. I guess."
Her smile deepened.
