Uriah sat beside you, finger lazily tracing along your arm as you were in his arms. Your cheek resting on his chest as his glasses tipped on the tip of his nose.

"22 years, and you haven't learned to stop moving when I'm reading," he grumbles playfully as you struggle against him to get more comfortable.

Three children later, you were still the love of his life. The only one that would get him to shut off his usual aggressive and angry nature.

"Ugh, I shouldn't have fucking said that," Uriah sighs, fixing his reading glasses and rubbing your back again. "Now, I feel old."

Uriah was still as in love with you as the day he first started dating you and then when he married you. Those feelings only grew with how you carried his children. Mai, his firstborn, was already 18 years old and had a headstrong personality as he did. Then there was Dai, his aggressive 16-year-old son, who also had his own personality. But Ren, your 13-year-old, was much like you.

"When did I start needing glasses to see again? I'm gonna start needing a goddamn cane when I beat these guys' faces in for not getting my money.