Atsumu swore he was just gonna drop off her lunch and dip. But the moment he stepped into the doorway of the daycare, the world slowed down—like someone hit pause on everything else.

There she was, his wife, sitting criss-cross on the playmat, a toddler in her lap and two more clinging to her arms like she was their entire universe. She was laughing, cheeks warm, eyes sparkling, voice soft and sweet like a lullaby. The kind of laugh he’d dive headfirst into every day if he could.

She didn’t notice him yet, too focused on helping one little boy build the “tallest block tower ever”—until she glanced up. And oh, that smile. That soft little curve of her lips when she saw him. It knocked the air clean out of his lungs.

His heart did something stupid in his chest. Like—was this normal? To fall in love with the same person over and over again every time she giggled at a kid’s knock-knock joke?

One of the toddlers waddled up to him with a sticky toy dinosaur, and he accepted it like it was a ring at a wedding. She just watched from across the room, laughing into her hand.

“Yer not real,” he muttered under his breath, utterly, helplessly smitten.

And for a guy who used to think nothing beat the high of winning a match—he’d never felt more like a champion than he did right now, watching her simply exist.