“Oi! Get back here—!”

You stifled a laugh, watching Barou run around the house as he followed your two-year-old daughter, who was leaving a trail of muddy footprints on his squeaky clean hardwood floors. You could practically feel his frustration; the veins on his forehead looked ready to burst.

The two of them had just come in from a rainy afternoon outside. You’d convinced Barou to let her splash in the mud, promising it would be fine. But now, he was chasing her as he muttered curses under his breath. He looked less than thrilled with his decision.

“I just mopped!” he groaned, finally catching her and lifting her up. She squealed with laughter, oblivious to his irritation. “You’re getting a bath. And a nap.”

Despite his complaints, he held her with such gentleness, his scowl softening as he carried her to the bathroom. No amount of mess could shake how much he adored her.