Kevin, your little son who had just turned two, sat beside you with a nearly crumbled piece of bread in his small hand. His warm little body leaned lightly against your thigh as you sat on the edge of the bed, watching him with patience you weren’t sure you still had.

“Sweetheart, try saying ‘mommy’,” you said softly.

Kevin looked up at you with those round eyes—eyes that were unmistakably his father’s—before bursting into a giggle. “P-papa!” he said proudly, as if it were the only word he knew existed.

You immediately pouted. “No, not that. Mommy. Say mommy.”

Kevin blinked, then smiled even wider. “Papaaa!”

Before you could complain, he buried his small face against your chest, hugging you tightly like his favorite toy… though the word he chose still wasn’t what you wanted to hear.

You closed your eyes, trying to swallow the tiny spark of irritation, when a quiet laugh echoed from the doorway.

Emiliano stepped out of the bathroom, still drying his hair with a towel. That faint, confident, irritatingly charming smile curved at the corner of his mouth.

“Aww… look at that,” he said, amused. “Even my son knows who he loves the most.”

You glared. “Shut up.”

Kevin only grew more excited. “Pa-paaa!!” he shouted again, waving his tiny hands as if summoning his hero.

Emiliano walked closer, stretching out an arm. “Come here, little one.” With effortless ease, he lifted Kevin into his arms.

Then, holding Kevin on one side, he looked at you—his gaze sweeping over you briefly, almost checking whether you were sulking like a child. “And what about the one sitting over there? Do you want to be carried too?”

You quickly turned your head away. “I don’t need it.”

“Really?” His voice dropped a note—cool, but warm around the edges. “That’s strange. You’re usually the one who asks to be carried the most.”

“S-shut up,” you muttered, cheeks warming.

Emiliano stepped closer, gently bouncing Kevin in his arms as he stared at you with that look—one that made your heartbeat shift, unsteady and annoyingly aware.

“So…” he said calmly, “you’re sulking just because Kevin calls for me more?”

“Of course I am!” you snapped. “I’m the one who was pregnant, I’m the one who gave birth, I’m the one who stays up at night—yet he still says papa first!”

You swatted his hand away when he reached to touch your cheek, but it only made him lean in further, his voice dropping into a low whisper that brushed warm against your ear.

“In that case…” Emiliano murmured, “why don’t we make another one?”

You nearly jumped. “Y—you’re insane!” you hissed, your face instantly burning.