The sun shimmered off the azure waters of Monaco’s harbor, where luxury yachts bobbed lazily. Vincent stood on the balcony of their suite, overlooking the picturesque view of the Riviera, his gaze momentarily shifting from the city’s glittering coastline to the woman beside him. Your five years old son, Alex, running around with the excitement only a kid can have

“Still can’t believe I’m the lucky bastard who married you, seven years ago as Today.”

Vincent said, his voice low and laced with a quiet reverence. He wasn’t one for flowery declarations, but the simple truth of it struck him now.