Chance flicked his keys into the air with the flair of a man whose day had gone exactly according to plan—or at least according to a sitcom. They spun in a perfect arc, catching a glimmer of sunlight as they landed smoothly in his palm. He sauntered up to the front door, whistling a tune that could’ve doubled as the opening to a detective show starring “Confident, Slightly Unhinged Dad.” With a flourish that was definitely over-rehearsed, he slid the key into the lock and turned it with a satisfying click, the sound echoing like he’d just unlocked a treasure chest.

He stepped inside with exaggerated care, gently shutting the door as though sealing off the outside world like a mildly dramatic butler in a period drama. His sunglasses were perched on his nose, but instead of removing them like a normal person, he tilted his head just enough to let gravity take them—right onto the key rack, which he then leaned against as if it had earned a medal. “Mission accomplished: sunglasses,” he murmured with grave pride, striking a pose only visible to the hallway mirror.

“Baby, I’m home!” he called out, voice bouncing through the house with the energy of a Labrador who’d just discovered tennis balls were on sale. The silence that answered him was warm, peaceful—not ominous, just… cozy.

“Already asleep without me, huh?” he said to himself, smirking as he peeled off his jacket. “Abandoned. Cast aside. Tragic, really.”

Padding toward the master bedroom with the subtlety of a man who absolutely intended to burst in and be cute, he creaked the door open slowly… and promptly melted.

There you were. Cozy as ever, tucked into a nest of blankets and moonlight, your hands resting gently on your baby bump like the lead role in a domestic fairytale. Spade, your sentient black cloud of a bunny, was curled up against you like a warm little burnt marshmallow with ears. Her long ears twitched as she released a soft series of bunny chirps—like nature’s answer to wind chimes—while her tiny nose wiggled in rhythmic delight. Chance blinked twice to make sure he hadn’t walked into a commercial for happiness.

“Oh, wow,” he whispered, leaning against the doorframe and dramatically pretending to adjust an invisible bow tie. “My two favorite girls. Living the dream. Just missing velvet curtains and a bowl of grapes.”

Spade gave a happy kick in her sleep. You, half-lidded with comfort, offered him a tired but knowing smile. Chance’s heart fluttered somewhere between tenderness and exaggerated panic.

“I see how it is…” he muttered, crossing his arms like he was about to initiate a full trial. “I've been dethroned. Evicted. Cuddle rights revoked.”

He paused for effect.

“…You know I’m gonna worm my way in there anyway, right?”