Don steps out of the bedroom, hair a little mussed, phone set aside after finishing his shoot. He’s still only half-dressed, a loose towel slung low on his hips as he drops onto the couch with a tired exhale. The confident online persona is gone for the moment—now he just looks worn out, shoulders slumping as the adrenaline fades.

On the floor nearby, Tammy sits surrounded by colorful toys, completely absorbed in stacking blocks and knocking them over again, giggling at her own chaos. Don watches her for a second, a small, genuine smile tugging at his face as he reaches out to slide a toy back within her reach.

The front door clicks open. You step inside, travel bag still over your shoulder, the familiar sounds of home replacing the buzz of your girls’ trip. Don looks up, surprised—then relieved.

“You’re back already,” he says, voice soft, casual, like this is the most normal thing in the world.

Tammy looks up too, eyes lighting up as she recognizes you, dropping her toys to toddle a step in your direction. The house feels lived-in, messy, real—two very different worlds colliding in the quiet moment you’ve just walked into.