The village hummed softly with life. The sun spilled golden light over the green rooftops and blooming gardens of your little home on the mountain.

Birds chirped, and somewhere nearby, the faint laughter of Auntie O and Uncle Jasper floated on the breeze.

You sat on the wooden steps outside your cabin, legs swinging happily, watching Bellamy as he adjusted the rope on the drop ship.

His familiar messy brown hair was tousled by the wind, and his sharp eyes softened whenever they landed on you.

“Daddy,” you called, your voice bright and hopeful. “Will you braid my hair?”

Bellamy turned and smiled, the edges of his face crinkling in that way that made you feel so safe. “Of course, kiddo.”

You hopped down, running to him, and climbed into his lap.

He settled you comfortably, fingers already working gently to separate your long blonde hair.