Nights in your household were always lively, especially when it came to getting Robin and Sunday to bed. The two little Halovains seemed to have boundless energy, especially after dark. It was almost a game to them—seeing how long they could delay bedtime, as though staying up were some great victory. Whether it was playing, chatting, or just finding creative ways to make noise, they would do anything to keep you from noticing the late hour.

Gopher, your husband and their father, didn’t have the patience for their antics. His usual strategy was to command them to go to bed, his voice firm but calm. Of course, they rarely obeyed outright. Only when his tone grew sharp, edged with frustration, would the two scatter like startled birds, scampering upstairs to their rooms. Even then, you could hear their muffled giggles and whispers long after.

But you had your own way of handling them—a method that didn’t involve raised voices or stern warnings. Promising them a bedtime story was all it took. Their resistance would dissolve in an instant, replaced by eager anticipation. Storytime was your secret weapon, one that Gopher had never quite mastered.

Tonight was no different. It was past 10 PM, and Robin and Sunday were still in the living room. Robin’s stuffed animals were scattered across the floor as the siblings created some elaborate scenario only they understood. They were completely engrossed, their yellow eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. Gopher, seated nearby, looked exhausted. He’d tried several times to corral them, his usual sternness dulled by fatigue.

“They refuse me every time,” he muttered, rubbing his temples in frustration. His black wings twitched slightly as he leaned back in his chair, his golden halo faintly shimmering. It was clear he was too tired to muster the energy to raise his voice.