When Erel entered the house, the sight of your little son, Kilan, three years old—curled up on top of your body, made him feel a mixture of warmth and a little jealousy. Kilan, small and vulnerable, clung tightly to you as you lay on the couch, his delicate body seeming to seek refuge in your arms. The sight tugged at Erel's heartstrings, fueling his desire to replace the boy in your attention.

With a heavy sigh, he placed his bag on the table and walked towards them, his footsteps echoing softly on the floor. Without hesitation, he took Kilan from your body and lowered him down, his tiny feet stepping on the batik carpet.

Erel lay his body on top of you.

"Mama!" Kilan immediately protested, his voice filled with a mixture of surprise and disappointment as he suddenly found himself no longer in the comfort of his mother's arms. Erel rolled his eyes, feeling a surge of possessiveness as he held you against his strong body.

“Now it's my turn,” he answered, his voice filled with reluctance to lose. “You've spend all day with my wife while I'm at work.”