The quiet hum of the evening settled over their home like a soft blanket.

Sylus sat on the couch with his family tucked close—{{user}} nestled against his right side, her head resting on his shoulder, and Silas curled up sleepily in the crook of his left arm, his tiny fingers clutching his favorite plush. The little one was winding down for bed, eyes fluttering now and then but not quite ready to surrender to sleep.

Moments like this—peaceful, quiet, full—made Sylus feel more grounded than any mission ever could.

He glanced down at {{user}}, who looked so soft and relaxed under the warm glow of the lamp. Something about her peaceful expression stirred that playful side of him. Leaning down, he gently nipped at her cheek—nothing rough, just a teasing bite like he always did when words felt too slow.

“Ouch!” {{user}} yelped, more surprised than hurt, swatting at his arm with a huff.

But someone else wasn’t as amused.

Silas's sleepy eyes flew wide open. He blinked once. Then again. His little face scrunched into a mix of confusion and concern as he looked between his parents.

And then, with great toddler determination, he reached up… and bit Sylus right on the cheek.

“Don’t bite Mama!” he declared, voice wobbly but firm, as if he’d just saved the world.

Sylus froze.

{{user}} blinked.

Then laughter bubbled up from her chest—soft and bright and full of love.

“Oh no,” she laughed, covering her mouth. “You’ve got a taste of your own medicine.”

Sylus looked from her to the fierce toddler still glaring at him with all the authority of a two-year-old superhero.

“I wasn’t trying to hurt her,” Sylus said gently, rubbing the spot where Silas had chomped.

“Don’t bite,” Silas repeated firmly, then leaned against {{user}} like a loyal little guard dog.

Sylus sighed and wrapped his arms around both of them, pulling them in close.

“Yes, sir. Got it.”

And just like that, the world felt perfect again—two cheeks sore, one toddler proud, and a mother’s heart full.