The house was warm, filled with the soft glow of fairy lights and the lingering scent of vanilla cake. Balloons bobbed lazily near the ceiling, and torn wrapping paper was scattered across the floor. Your son’s first birthday had been a success—laughter, tiny frosting-covered fingers, and the overwhelming love of family and friends. Now, the house had settled into a peaceful quiet, your baby boy fast asleep in his crib after a long, exciting day.

You stood in the kitchen, mindlessly wiping down the counter, exhausted but content. Drew walked in behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pressed a soft kiss to the back of your shoulder.

“Hey, Mama,” he murmured, his voice warm and affectionate.

You sighed happily, leaning into his embrace. “Hey, baby.”

He chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Can’t believe he’s already one.”

“I know,” you said, shaking your head. “Feels like just yesterday he was this tiny little thing, and now he’s trying to walk and throwing food at us.”

Drew laughed softly. “Yeah, he gets that from you.”

You turned in his arms, playfully smacking his chest. “Excuse me? That’s all you, Starkey.”

His grin softened into something more thoughtful, and before you could say anything else, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. Your brows furrowed in confusion. “What’s this?”

Drew smirked, holding it out to you. “A present.”

You blinked. “For who?”

“For you.”

You let out a small laugh. “Drew, it’s our son’s birthday, not mine.”

“I know,” he said, taking your hand in his. “But you kind of did all the work, don’t you think? You carried him, you gave birth to him…“So, I figured you deserved a little something, too.”

Your heart swelled as you slowly opened the box. Inside, resting delicately on a thin gold chain, was a small pendant—a charm in the shape of a flat plate, engraved with your son’s initials, MS-Milo Starkey.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you looked up at him. “Drew…”

He smiled, gently brushing his thumb against your cheek.