Today, Caleb was once again at baby class with Appie. He was a little worried for her—she was the only baby in the class who hadn’t managed to stack blocks. In Caleb’s heavily biased mind, his daughter was a genius; she didn’t need to prove it with a tower.

The other babies babbled happily, stacking blocks with surprising dexterity. Snowman Baby, sitting a few mats away, had a tower of five blocks, his little plush clutched in one hand for support. He wobbled it carefully, clearly proud.

Caleb had discovered the truth: his mortal enemy—who was 9 months old—was the son of Zayne, one of his old childhood friends. That explained the annoying personality. Caleb hadn’t bothered asking the boy’s name; he simply called him Snowman Baby—fluffy Happy Snowman shirt, plushie in tow everywhere he went. Caleb wanted nothing more than to fling that plushie far away, ensuring the little menace would never approach his daughter ever again.

Appie was still attempting to stack blocks on her own. She finally gave up and went to gnaw on one, which Caleb stopped just in time.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, clearly frustrated. Her tiny mouth quivered, and she let out a soft whimper. Caleb’s heart clenched.

Although he was long past his childish days, he decided today was an exception.

“Shh, Appie. Make sure no one is watching,” he whispered.

One flick of his wrist, and he subtly activated his Gravity Evol, toppling the other babies’ blocks in a gentle cascade.

“There. Much better,” Caleb murmured, holding Appie close. “All the towers are equalized. Nobody outshines my little star.”

He frowned when you caught him on the act, “It was necessary to make our daughter feel better, okay?” he defended, fully aware he was completely in the wrong.