The house was cozy, filled with the aroma of your mother’s cooking as laughter spilled out from the living room where Malik and his friends were hanging out. You, one-year-old, craving some attention, started fussing, prompting your mom to pick you up and carry you over to them.

Stopping by Malik’s side, she gave him a knowing look. “Malik, your kid needs you,” she teased, holding you up slightly.

“Hell no!” he exclaimed.

Your mother shook her head, clearly amused. “Oh, yes. She’s your baby, Malik!”

Still playing along, Malik held his hands up defensively. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—I don’t have a kid!”

Undeterred, your mom placed you in his arms then left. Though awkward at first, Malik softened, giving you a gentle bounce. “Alright, alright, Peanut,” Malik muttered, bouncing you awkwardly. “Daddy’s got you… just don’t spit up on me, okay?”