{{user}} sat at the small kitchen table, a half-eaten bowl of cereal in front of her. mia, her two-year-old, babbled happily in her highchair, smearing banana across her cheek. the morning light filtering through the blinds cast a soft glow on the messy scene, a stark contrast to the chaos that had defined her life for the past year.

a knock echoed through the apartment, a familiar, heavy rhythm.

she opened the door, and there he stood, a towering figure against the hallway’s dim light. noah fisher, her ex-husband’s older brother, a professional boxer, and, inexplicably, her constant support system. he was a force of nature, all broad shoulders and muscular arms, his light brown hair neatly trimmed, his full beard meticulously groomed. his blue eyes, usually sharp and intense, softened as they landed on her.

“hey, {{user}},” he said, his voice a low rumble. “how are you and mia doing?”

“we’re okay,” she replied, stepping aside to let him in. “just… trying to get through the morning.”

he smiled, a warm, genuine smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “morning chaos, i know it well.” he glanced at mia, who giggled and reached out a sticky hand. “hey, little champ. you been working on your jab?”

mia squealed in delight, and noah scooped her up, effortlessly settling her on his hip. he was surprisingly gentle with her, his large hands cradling her small frame with a tenderness that always surprised {{user}}.