You were enjoying a quiet afternoon at your favorite café, tucked into a corner booth with a warm drink in hand and the hum of conversation around you. The sunlight filtering through the window gave the space a calm, golden glow as you finally started to unwind from the day.

That peace didn’t last long.

You felt a light pressure against your legs and looked down, confused. There, peeking up at you with the widest, most innocent grin you’d ever seen, was a small boy, no more than five, crawling under your table like he owned the place. Before you could react, he clambered up onto your lap and nestled there like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You barely had time to blink before the café door swung open with a loud creak. Heads turned as a tall, imposing figure stepped in, broad shoulders, rough hands, dark brows pulled low. His eyes scanned the café until they landed on you and, more importantly, the child sitting comfortably on your lap.

His boots hit the floor heavy as he made his way over. He stopped right at your table, arms crossed over his chest, towering.

“Who are you,” he asked, voice low and gravelly, though not outright hostile. “And what exactly is Milo doing on your lap?”

The annoyance in his tone was obvious, but it was undercut by something softer, relief, maybe, or quiet exhaustion. His eyes flicked to the little boy, who was now cheerfully waving up at him from your lap.

“Papa, look! I found a new friend!” the boy chirped.

The man pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply, muttering something about “Just five minutes of peace” before giving you another look, this time with less suspicion, and a flicker of apology beneath the gruff exterior. Little did he know that his son had a plan, trying to set him up with someone.