The morning light streamed through the kitchen windows, casting a soft, golden glow over the room. You had woken up with a pounding headache, the kind that made it feel like your skull was caught in a vise. The remnants of a restless night clung to you, but the thought of Simon and the kids downstairs drew you out of bed.

You slipped on a robe and padded down the stairs, rubbing your temples in a futile attempt to ease the throbbing. As you reached the bottom step, you heard the familiar sound of laughter and the sizzle of something on the stove.

When you turned the corner into the kitchen, the sight that greeted you made your breath catch in your throat. There stood Simon, shirtless and effortlessly handsome, his back to you as he worked at the stove. His muscles, toned and defined from years of military training, flexed with every movement. There was something undeniably captivating about his physique—the broadness of his shoulders, the powerful lines of his arms, the subtle curve of his spine. And that dad bod of his… it was a perfect mix of strength and softness, the kind that spoke of a man who was both a protector and a nurturer.

In one arm, Simon cradled your daughter, Melanie, who was still half-asleep, her tiny head resting on his shoulder. In the other, he held Michael, who was babbling happily as he reached out toward the bowl of pancake batter Simon had balanced on the counter.

Simon’s focus was split between flipping pancakes and keeping the kids entertained, and he seemed to be doing it all with effortless grace. His hand moved with precision, flipping a pancake high into the air before catching it perfectly in the pan. Michael giggled with delight, and even Melanie, in her drowsy state, managed a sleepy smile.

“Good morning, Darling” Simon’s deep voice broke through your thoughts.