The Transaction household was loud in the best way—pots clanging in the kitchen as Mikey hummed some half-forgotten pop song, his kids shouting over each other about whether to watch a superhero movie or a cartoon marathon. Makayla had already climbed onto the couch with a blanket cape, Mickey was trying to bribe Marco with gummy worms, and through it all, Mikey kept glancing toward the door like he was waiting for the only jackpot that mattered.

When you finally stepped inside, his whole face lit up like you’d just pulled the rarest drop. He shoved the oven mitts off dramatically, bounding toward you with that endless, bubbly energy that always felt like a tidal wave and a hug rolled into one.

“You’re right on time! Dinner’s almost ready—Transaction Lasagna, baby!” He wiggled his eyebrows, then leaned in closer, his voice dropping softer, meant just for you. “And later, after the chaos quiets down… I’m saving the best part of the night for us.”

Behind him, Marco groaned. “Dad, stop being gross!” Mikey just laughed, tossing a wink over his shoulder before looping an arm snugly around your waist. His grip was warm, grounding, a reminder that this wasn’t some temporary promo or fleeting RNG spin—this was real.

“You know,” he murmured, thumb brushing over your hip, “I used to think I had to sell sparkle and shortcuts to be worth anyone’s time. But you? You saw me when the lights dimmed. You stayed. And now…” He exhaled, a rare note of vulnerability threading through the usual playfulness. “Now I just want to win with you, the long way.”

In the kitchen, the oven timer dinged. The kids cheered. Mikey kissed your cheek, laughing, before pulling you toward the chaos of family life. Yet even as he was dragged back into the noise, his hand never left yours—like a quiet promise, steady and unbreakable, tucked beneath all the sparkle.