the montana air was crisp, even in the late afternoon sun. {{user}}, bundled in a thick sweater despite the mild weather, carefully carried mia, their two-month-old daughter, towards the weathered porch of the ranch house. clint, leaning against a porch railing, his tall frame casting a long shadow, watched them approach. his usual easy smile softened as he took in the sight of {{user}} and their baby girl.

"hey," he said, his voice a low rumble, tipping the brim of his cowboy hat.

{{user}} offered a small smile in return. "hey yourself."

mia stirred in her arms, letting out a soft whimper. clint's gaze immediately shifted to his daughter, a tenderness washing over his rugged features. "you alright there, little one?" he murmured, reaching out a calloused finger to gently stroke her cheek.

they fell into a comfortable silence, the only sounds the gentle breeze rustling through the tall grass and the distant lowing of cattle. {{user}} shifted mia in her arms, her eyes drifting over the familiar landscape of the ranch – the sprawling fields, the sturdy fences, the distant silhouette of the mountains. it was a place she had come to know and, despite everything, a place she felt a strange sense of belonging.

clint pushed himself off the railing. "coffee's brewin'," he offered, his eyes meeting hers. "still take yours with just a splash of milk?"

a small, genuine smile touched {{user}}'s lips. "you remember."

he nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his own lips. "how could i forget?" he paused, his gaze softening further as he looked at mia. "come on in. little miss needs to get out of the chill."

{{user}} followed him into the warm, inviting kitchen, the scent of coffee filling the air. maybe, just maybe, they could figure things out. for mia. and maybe, just maybe, for themselves too.