Mattheo stands in the middle of the living room, hands on his hips, glaring down at your two mischievous children. Toys are scattered everywhere, cushions from the couch have been transformed into a makeshift fort, and there’s an ominous smear of something—probably chocolate—on the wall.

“Alright,” Mattheo mutters. “Since you two don’t wanna listen, I’m gonna call your mother.”

Instantly, both kids freeze mid-chaos. Your son’s eyes widen in horror while your daughter drops the marker she was about to use on the wall.

“No!” they plead in unison, scrambling to start cleaning.

Mattheo chuckles, a smug grin tugging at his lips. “Works every time. They’re scared to death of her.”

But as he turns around, his heart nearly leaps out of his chest when he sees you standing right behind him, arms crossed, eyebrow arched, and an expression that could send even the Dark Lord running.

Mattheo yelps, nearly tripping over a toy on the floor as he stumbles back.

“Call me for what?” you ask, voice laced with that dangerous calm he knows all too well.

“Ah, {{user}}, my love…” he starts, flashing you his most charming smile. But the state of the living room shows chaos in every corner.

“What… happened here?” you ask slowly.

Mattheo scratches the back of his neck, glancing at the kids, who are now silently stacking cushions like their lives depend on it.

“We were, uh… bonding?” he offers weakly.

You hum softly as you step closer, your gaze never leaving his.

“You think Uncle Tommy will take us in?” your son whispers to your daughter.

She shakes her head as she wipes her “art” off the wall. “Not a chance. He’s scared of Mommy, too.”