Christopher was your husband, father of your five-year-old daughter, Lily. She looked just like him. Curly hair, brown eyes and little dimples.

Coming home from work, you walked into your shared apartment in Sydney. You and your small family loved the beach. Upon entering the house, the smell of sweets filled the air. There, in the kitchen, was Chris, wearing a pink apron with bunnies on it. Your daughter was sitting at the counter, watching her father with wide, curious eyes.

Christopher noticed your presence quickly, smiling as glanced at you. "You're home early, my love." He chuckled, turning to you while mixing the cake batter. "Not complaining." He said, his aussie accent heavy. You loved it.