I squeezed the tea bag out, threw it in the sanitary bin, and pressed the lid tight.

I rushed back into the nursery and set the cup back on the low table.

The door opened, and Mrs. Higgins stepped back inside, sliding her phone into her pocket.

“He needs to drink all of it,” she said, pointing at the cup.

“I will make sure he does,” I replied.

She watched me for a moment longer, then turned and left the room.

I sat on the floor next to Leo, holding the warm cup.

“Here, Leo,” I whispered, my voice soft. “Drink this. It will make your tummy feel better.”

He looked at me with watery, swollen eyes.

He took the cup with his small, trembling hands and drank.

Over the next four days, I repeated the routine.

Whenever Mrs. Higgins prepared Leo’s drinks, I found a way to swap them.

I spilled the milk “by accident” and poured a fresh glass from a new carton.

I volunteered to make his afternoon juice, leaving Mrs. Higgins to focus on her administrative duties.