The living room was scattered with fake cobwebs and tiny pumpkins, a soft glow from the candles flickering against the walls. Oscar sat cross-legged on the floor, carefully adjusting the little bat costume on your baby, who wriggled and giggled at the fuss.

“She’s going to hate us when she sees these pictures,” he said, snapping another photo anyway.

You laughed, leaning against the couch, watching him—your partner, your love, now a father who looked at his child like she was the entire universe.

“She’ll love it,” you whispered.

When he glanced up, his eyes softened in that way they always did when they found yours. The baby babbled, reaching clumsily for his hand, and Oscar let her wrap her tiny fingers around his.

“First Halloween,” he murmured, kissing the crown of her head before looking back at you. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.”