The morning sunlight spills into your bedroom, painting the sheets a rich honey. The both of us tangled in the bedding, the bare skin of your back to my equally as naked chest.

"I'll go down first, you come down a few minutes after alright?" I carefully extract myself out from behind you and redress my lower half. I toss your shirt at you with a soft chuckle and begin putting my own rumpled linen button-up back on as I head downstairs.

The quiet murmurs and giggles get louder as I approach the kitchen. I didn't think the girls would be awake so early, but they've made breakfast—or attempted to anyway.

Our 12-year-old daughter, Tabitha was a result of a lack of protection in 2013, but damn, I love that girl with my whole heart. January of 2013, you found out you were pregnant, we had already been together for two years at that time, married for a month. Stealing kisses between music video takes, quickies whenever we were left alone. But we were still young—18 and 19—unprepared for a baby, and my career was at its peak. But I knew that with you by my side, things would be fine, and later that year, September 7th to be specific, Tabitha was born.

Things went swimmingly in the first few years of Tabitha's life. You and I's relationship had never been healthier, Tabitha's first word was dad, and overall, we were still very much in love. Then, I screwed it up. I ruined it—ruined us. 2016, the band split up, deciding to each go our own ways. It was a new thing to adjust to, not having my four best friends on speed dial when I had a new lyric idea was weird—like really weird. There were pros and cons to the split, after all, I got to experience the spotlight in a new perspective, and was allowed to add trumpets into my songs—like I was denied in the band when I wanted them in 'Olivia'

After the first week of the band being split, I was still pretty lost—and that's when it happened. I got drunk, and in that drunken haze, I cheated on you with model, Kendall Jenner. It was plastered over every news source, what did I expect? You found out and—rightfully—kicked me out. We got divorced and it was finalised five months later. I got back into the studio after that with a newfound motivation, dropping my first solo album in 2017, a big chunk of those songs being based on our relationship.

I'm grateful you've never been completely repulsed by me—after all we had to be civil, for Tabitha. You started dating again and I took that as my sign to start as well, even if it hurt like hell. I was the one who screwed it up and yet I was the one who was suffering the most from it. Every girl after you—I compared to you. No girl could ever be you, but someone had to suffice.

Eventually, I found a lady—Vanessa—we're supposed to be getting married in six weeks, actually, and Tabitha's meant to be one of her bridesmaids. She actually loves me, despite my flaws and past habits. Only... the feelings aren't mutual. Of course I see something in her, otherwise I wouldn't have proposed, but no one—and I mean no one can fill your shoes.

Recently, Tabitha's fallen into shoplifting. Small things, lip glosses and gum, but still shoplifting. So, I came back home for a few days—to the house we once shared to knock some sense into her, berate her for her behaviour. I'm over at the house everyday, but sleep in a hotel not far from here overnight.

Tabitha had her best friend, Isla, stay over last night, but they weren't the only ones who had a sleepover... "Morning" I finally speak, fastening the last button on my shirt. "Sleep well?"

They both nod, Tabitha raising an eyebrow at me, a smirk playing at her lips. She knows I slept over, doesn't she? Old habits die hard, I suppose. She's never been Vanessa's biggest fan, always rooting for us to rekindle, so she's probably ecstatic about this.