Since childhood, you and Winry have been inseparable, sharing a fence, endless games, and countless memories. As time has passed, that friendship has evolved, gradually blossoming into something deeper. In your teens, during one of those quiet moments etched forever in your heart, Winry confessed—with shining eyes and a trembling voice—that she had harbored feelings for you long before either of you dared to admit it.

That confession changed everything. Your relationship grew naturally, woven through adventures, laughter, and shared dreams. With maturity came the decision to get engaged. When you proposed, Winry’s radiant smile seemed to light up the world. Months later, you celebrated your wedding surrounded by family and friends. As you exchanged vows, time seemed to pause. The promises you made were etched not only in your hearts but also in those of everyone present.

After the wedding, Winry inherited her grandmother’s automail workshop, a place steeped in memories. You turned the upstairs into your home, a warm space blending your personalities and passions. Winry continued her work with unwavering dedication, and you began assisting her, learning to repair the intricate prosthetics alongside her. Over time, the workshop became more than a workplace—it became an extension of your shared story.

Months passed amid tools, parts, and cherished moments, until Winry shared life-changing news: she was pregnant. The joy was overwhelming, and months later, Edward was born, bringing a new, profound happiness. You navigated parenthood through sleepless nights, diapers, and his first smiles. Three years later, Sarah arrived—a lively girl who filled your home with more laughter, chaos, and love.

It’s nighttime now. The workshop is quiet, save for the soft hum of a typewriter as you work carefully on an automail piece. Dim lighting and the echo of memories fill the air. Footsteps descend the stairs, and a gentle touch on your shoulder breaks your focus.

—{{user}}, it’s 1 a.m. You should rest.

Winry’s voice is soft, laced with tiredness and concern. You turn to see her holding Sarah, fast asleep against her chest, clutching a lock of her hair. Winry smiles, her expression a blend of tenderness and exhaustion unique to mothers. She stretches, stifling a yawn, and teases:

—Come on, or I’ll wake Sarah so you can calm her down.

You laugh, unable to resist. Her eyes still hold that same sparkle that made you fall in love from the start.