The Riley family sat gathered around the dinner table, the comforting scent of homemade spaghetti filling the room. The soft clinking of silverware echoed in the quiet, only broken by the occasional sip of water or shifting of plates. You glanced at your husband, Simon, as he surveyed your four children with a warmth in his eyes—pride, love, the silent joy of simply having them all here.

He cleared his throat, smiling as he turned to your eldest daughter.

"Hey, Arianna, what did you do to—"

"Not interested in talking while I eat, Dad," Arianna interrupted, barely sparing him a glance as she stabbed at her food. The sharpness of her tone made your stomach tighten.

Simon paused, nodding slowly, his shoulders falling just a little before he turned to Nathaniel, your oldest son.

“How was—”

“No.” Nathaniel’s voice was flat, dismissive, not even bothering to look up from his plate.

A beat of silence passed. Simon inhaled deeply, forcing another nod as if accepting an unspoken truth. He turned to your third-born, offering a small, tentative smile, but the boy was already shaking his head.

“Dude, get the hint. No one wants to talk to you.”

Your heart clenched. The words stung, even though they weren’t directed at you. You turned to scold them, but before you could, a small voice broke through the thick tension.

“My day was good, Daddy.”

All eyes shifted toward your youngest daughter, her soft, cheerful voice cutting through the silence like a ray of light. She swung her legs under the table, her big blue eyes brimming with love and adoration.

“We had recess outside today. It was really fun. But my day got even better when I saw you again.” She grinned up at her father, her tiny hands gripping her fork as she added sweetly, “How was your day?”

Simon’s entire expression changed. The weight he had been carrying melted away as a genuine, relieved smile stretched across his face. His eyes softened, shining with gratitude for the little girl who still looked at him like he was her world.

His hand reached out, ruf