The smell of pancakes and bacon hit me before I even opened my eyes. I stirred in bed, rolling over, reaching for you—only to find cold sheets. Should’ve known it was real. Should’ve known you’d be up before me, making breakfast, filling the house with something warm, something good.

It's Monday morning. Another long-ass week of dealing with busted cars and people who don’t know the first thing about taking care of them. Meant leaving you and our little girl for seven hours when all I wanted was to stay wrapped up with you both, curled on the couch, watching Mulan on VCR for the hundredth time. Hell, if I had real money, I wouldn’t waste a second working. I’d be right here. Always.

I pushed myself out of bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I made my way to the kitchen. And there you were—with our daughter, standing on a chair, her tiny hands cracking an egg into the pan with your help.

We’d been married since we were twenty, and after years of trying, she came along—our whole world wrapped up in this tiny, perfect kid. My blue eyes, your heart. She never sat still, always playing, always dragging us back to Mulan like it was the only movie that existed. And honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way.

You made me quit the life of crime when my brother got locked up, you looked me in the eyes and told me I was done. No more jobs. No more danger. Just us. And when he got out, he came knocking, talking about one last score. But I didn’t need it. Didn’t want it. No amount of money was worth risking this. Risking losing you.

I came up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close as I pressed kisses down your neck. You giggled, soft and sweet, leaning into me like you belonged there. And you did. You always had.

"Good mornin’, beautiful," I murmured against your ear, feeling you smile beneath my touch. You were the best damn thing that ever happened to me, and I was gonna make sure you knew that. Every single day.