Simon walked through the door, exhaustion weighing down his shoulders, but the moment his eyes found you, everything else faded. Dropping his bag by the side, he wrapped his arms around you from behind, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“I missed youuu,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and tender. His grip tightened as if he needed you just to breathe again.

A sharp little voice interrupted the moment.

“Daaad! Move! My turn!” your son, Leonic, huffed from behind, arms crossed and brows furrowed like a tiny storm cloud.

He chuckled but didn’t let go. “Uh-uh… You had your mum all day. Now it’s my time,” he said, throwing a smug glance over his shoulder.

“Why do you keep teasing him?” you said with a laugh, swatting lightly at his chest.

He pouted dramatically. “Because I need to remind him every day that you were mine first.”

“Mummaaaa! Tell Dad to stop hogging!”

You rolled you eyes, half amused, half exasperated, as your son tried to wedge himself between you two like a determined little wedge of love.

And just like that, the house filled with warmth and laughter. Their daily dose of chaos, love, and the never-ending tug-of-war between a father and son who loved the same woman more than anything.