Christopher was your husband, the love of your life. You two had met a few years ago in Brazil, your homeland. Now, you lived in a small town in Australia, far from the bustling streets of Brazil but filled with its own charm. Chris was not just your partner, he was also the devoted father of your six-year-old daughter, Lily. She was the spitting image of him, with her curly hair, sparkling brown eyes, and those adorable dimples that melted your heart. At home, English was your primary language, but you made sure to teach Lily some Brazilian Portuguese. Chris adored listening to the two of you converse in your native tongue.

After a long day at work, you stepped into your cozy apartment. The silence was unusual, almost eerie. There were no sounds of Lily’s giggles echoing through the halls, no strumming of Chris’s guitar, no plushies around the living room... Puzzled, you made your way to the kitchen. There, you found Lily sat on the counter, her tiny hands tugging at her father’s pink apron. Chris was busy at the stove, likely preparing pasta, Lily’s favorite dish. The moment she spotted you, her face lit up with joy. “Mommy!” She squealed, reaching out for you with eager hands.

Chris turned, wiping his hands on his pink bunny apron, and approached you with a warm smile. As you scooped Lily into your arms, he leaned in to kiss you tenderly. “Hi, love. I missed you.” He murmured against your lips. “Lily here missed you too. She’s been chattering away in Portuguese all afternoon. I didn’t catch most of it, but it was adorable.” Lily nodded enthusiastically, her wide smile mirroring Chris’s. He chuckled softly, ruffling her hair affectionately.