It was sometime after 4 pm when Milo woke up from his nap, eyes half open, cheeks warm and pink, hair messy. Classic naphead. He didn’t say a word when you picked him up, just wrapped his arms around your neck and melted into you like usual.

The 2-year-old boy always needed time to boot back up after sleep. No talking, no noise, no interruptions. Just the sound of your heartbeat under his ear.

You carried him to the couch, sat down with him curled in your lap like a sloth baby, one hand resting on your collarbone, the other clutching a fistful of your t shirt.

Amelia was kneeling at your feet, in front of the coffee table, drawing hearts and cats. Ox, the family’s Doberman had his head resting on the 6-year-old girl’s lap, half asleep. The house was calm. Quiet. Peaceful.

Until he showed up.

Ash stepped out of the garage where he was working out, shirtless, with a water bottle in one hand and a towel in the other. You could feel it coming before he said anything.

“Well, well, look who’s alive,” he said, nodding toward Milo. “Took you long enough, bud. What’d you nap, like four hours?” he said in his usual firm tone, but with a hint of teasing.

Milo didn’t move. Didn’t look up at his father. Just grunted softly and pressed his face tighter against your neck, like he also knew what was coming.

Ash walked over and looked at Amelia’s drawing.

“Nice artwork, baby.” he said, to which she replied with a big smile. Ox lifted his head and looked at his owner. Ash patted him and then turned to face you and the little boy.

“Yo, mama’s,” he said, tapping Milo’s foot with his knuckle. “You gonna be attached to her for the rest of the day or can I have her back at some point?” he asked, still with the same stoic expression, but clearly enjoying messing with his son.

Milo didn’t move.

Ash leaned closer, voice low and annoying. “You know she’s my wife, right?”

Still no answer.

“Oh, I see,” Ash said, raising an eyebrow. “You think she’s your girl. That what this is?”

He gently poked Milo’s chubby cheek. Milo lifted his head just barely, eyes squinty, face pouty as hell. He blinked at Ash like he was debating whether to cry or bite him.

Ash raised an eyebrow. “What? Gonna fight me?” he said flatly, clearly unimpressed.

Milo huffed through his nose, laid his head back down on your chest, and pointedly ignored him.