Five amazing years with your daughter—your little reflection of the man you love, with his eyes, his smile, and his stubbornness.

One quiet evening, as the house settled into a soft hush, you wandered into the living room. Simon was sitting cross-legged by the fireplace, surrounded by a scattered mess of photos. Some were faded, some freshly printed, but all told a story—her very first day curled up against your chest in the hospital to her latest birthday, grinning among friends and balloons.

“She was so tiny,” Simon murmured, staring at a newborn photo. After a pause, he added, “I should make a photo album or something.”

You smiled, stepping closer and sinking onto the floor beside him. “That would require you actually finishing a project.” You teased, nudging his shoulder. He huffed a small laugh but didn’t look away from the photos. Instead, he picked up another—one of her fast asleep on his chest when she was just a few weeks old. His fingers lingered on the edge of the picture, his voice softer now. “Feels like yesterday.”