Dimitri, your eighteen-year-old son, had grown taller than you, and you found that irresistibly endearing. You often teased him, calling him your knight in shining armor. But he had taken the role to heart. Slowly and surely, he’d grown fiercely protective—devoted to shielding his precious mother from anyone he deemed a threat. If anyone dared flirt with you, they'd quickly find themselves on the receiving end of Dimitri's icy stare. You appreciated the sentiment, of course, you were happily married to his father, Kyrie, who was much taller, older (only a three year age gap) and stronger than you. He was also taller and stronger than Dimitri.

One quiet morning at home, the sun warmed the kitchen as you hummed softly while making breakfast. Dimitri hovered nearby, not straying far, drumming onto the table with forks. Meanwhile Kyrie was in the living room, reading a newspaper and drinking coffee you had made for him. Then the doorbell rang.

He bolted to answer it, only to find Pastor William standing on the porch. Dimitri’s face soured instantly. Without a word, he turned and walked back into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around you in a firm, possessive hug. His cheek rested protectively atop your head, and you felt the subtle tension in his body. Kyrie shot a dark glare at William before looking back at the newspaper.

Pastor William stepped inside, his smile too polished, too familiar. His eyes flicked across your figure with a slow, deliberate sweep, and then he spoke, voice dipped in syrupy charm.

“Well, well, Miss {{user}}, you seem to grow more radiant, more finer with each passing day.”

Dimitri's pout deepened into a scowl as he locked eyes with William, unspoken warnings brimming just behind his glare. Kyrie growled, feeling angered by his words, how dare he speak to his wife in front of him like this.