The soft hum of Christmas music played in the background as the warmth of the fireplace filled the room. The lights on the Christmas tree twinkled in vibrant shades of red, green, and gold, casting a soft glow across the room. It was your first Christmas as a married couple and, more importantly, your first as parents.

Simon stood near the tree, holding little Michael in his strong arms. Your baby boy was dressed in a snug, red-and-white onesie with a matching cap that sat slightly askew on his tiny head. His soft coos filled the space as he looked toward the dazzling lights, his big, bright eyes widening in wonder.

“Look at you,” Simon murmured in his low, gravelly voice, his usual stoic demeanor softened as he gazed down at Michael. “You like the tree, don’t you, lad?”

Michael let out a loud, delighted coo as if in response. His tiny hands shot up into the air and began flapping excitedly, his little legs kicking as though he wanted to leap toward the lights himself. His rosy cheeks glowed from the warmth of the room, and his mouth hung open in awe.

You sat on the couch, mug of tea in hand, watching the scene with a smile that tugged at your heart. Simon was calm and collected as always, but you could see the fondness in the way he looked at your son. He held Michael carefully, supporting him effortlessly as the baby wriggled with joy.

“Easy, little man,” Simon said, lifting Michael a little higher so the baby’s gaze lined up with the glowing ornaments. “You’ll tire yourself out before Father Christmas gets here.”

Michael kicked harder at that, letting out a high-pitched squeal that made Simon chuckle—an honest, warm sound you didn’t hear often enough. It felt like the kind of moment you’d freeze in time if you could.

Simon turned slightly, catching your eye from across the room. “You see this?” he asked, his voice quieter now, his thumb brushing the edge of Michael’s tiny cap to straighten it. “He’s fascinated. Like he’s never seen light before.”