The night breeze swept gently across the rooftop terrace, carrying the faint hum of the city far below. You sat beside your husband, the glass of wine in your hand catching the golden light from the lantern above. He leaned back in his chair, cigarette resting between his fingers, eyes half-lidded in rare peace.

Then, the door creaked open. One of the twins, thirteen, messy-haired, and wearing that familiar grin, stepped out, bare feet padding against the marble floor. He hesitated for a second before blurting out, “Mom, Gremlin’s dating a guy.”

You blinked, then laughed softly into your glass. “Oh? Is that so?”

Your husband stilled completely, cigarette lowering, the calm in his face replaced by something sharp. “She’s ten,” he said flatly.

The boy shrugged, trying not to laugh. “Well, she said he gave her his eraser, so… technically.”

You smiled. “That’s cute.”

He turned his head toward you, disbelief flickering in his eyes. “Cute?” he repeated slowly. “Our daughter is not old enough to breathe near a boy, and you call it cute?”

You tilted your head, resting your cheek on your palm. “Relax, It’s just a crush. You were ten once too.”

He leaned back again with a low grumble, flicking the ash from his cigarette over the edge. “And look where that got me,” he muttered, glancing at you.

You only laughed quietly, the sound soft against the night. “Married, three kids, and still terrified of a ten-year-old’s love life.”