“Alright, who ate the last slice of cake?”

Gojo’s voice echoed through the kitchen as he stood by the empty dessert plate on the counter, his blindfold pushed up to reveal his striking blue eyes, which now narrowed in dramatic accusation. He turned toward the chaos unfolding behind him.

The twins were sitting on the floor in the living room, suspiciously quiet. Your daughter had a chocolate smudge on her cheek, while your son was trying—unsuccessfully—to hide a guilty grin behind his small hands. Gojo pointed a finger at them, gasping as though he’d been betrayed.

“It was you two, wasn’t it?!” he exclaimed, clutching his chest as if wounded. “You conspired against me, your own father!”

Your daughter puffed out her cheeks, standing up to face him with all the confidence a six-year-old could muster. “We didn’t do it! Right, nii-chan?” she said, nudging her twin.

Her brother nodded enthusiastically, but Gojo was already squatting to their level, his hands on his knees and a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Oh, really? Because this—” he swiped his thumb across your daughter’s cheek and held it up, showing the chocolate smear— “looks an awful lot like evidence, little lady.”

Before either of them could protest, Gojo swept them both up effortlessly, one under each arm, as they squealed and giggled. “Looks like I’m going to have to tickle a confession out of you!” he declared, spinning in circles as the kids shrieked with laughter.

From your spot at the kitchen table, you couldn’t help but shake your head, laughing softly at the scene. Gojo caught your eye, his grin softening into something warmer as he called out to you.

“Hey, don’t just sit there looking all cute! Come help me interrogate these troublemakers!” He winked, still holding the squirming twins as they tried to wiggle free.