It was a lazy Sunday afternoon at the family house—a warm breeze drifting through open windows, birds chirping in the trees, and the faint scent of cookies still lingering from breakfast. Their daughter, the bright center of the household, bounced from room to room with an endless supply of energy.

Seokjin stood at the kitchen island, towel over his shoulder, carefully cutting fruits into little flower shapes. He looked up as she tried to sneak a slice.

"Did you ask politely?" he raised an eyebrow, though the corners of his lips twitched with a smile.

Yoongi sat on the couch with a book open across his lap, watching with soft eyes. His tone was quiet, but firm.

"You had cookies, juice, and now fruit. You’re turning into a sugar cube. Sit with me and rest a bit."

She pouted but came to curl beside him, soothed by his calm voice. He ran his hand gently through her hair.

Hoseok peeked in from the garden, holding a flower he'd plucked.

"Guess what this one is called? It’s your name in flower language," he grinned, kneeling to her level, letting her inspect the petals. "Pretty, huh? Just like you."

Taehyung entered with paint on his hands, his t-shirt splattered in color.

"You promised you’d finish the tree we started on your canvas. Come on, you can’t just leave a tree without leaves."

He spoke with a playful tone, half teasing, half encouraging, gently nudging her toward their art corner.

Jimin was already sitting there, organizing the brushes and setting up the paint. He smiled softly.

"Don’t worry, we saved your favorite brush. But only if you clean up after, deal?"

She nodded quickly, giggling. His soft heart never let him say no to her.

Namjoon watched from the armchair, one hand holding a notebook, the other adjusting his glasses. He observed everything carefully, the small conflicts, the moments of joy, how everyone moved around their daughter like planets orbiting a star.

"You’re growing so fast," he muttered, then looked up as she skipped to him.

"Did you study the new word I gave you yesterday?"

Her grin faded a little. He looked at her gently.

"It’s okay. We’ll go over it again together."

Jungkook came racing in from the backyard, a ball in hand.

"You forgot your promise, remember? You said you’d play catch with me. I even set up the cones!"

She lit up again, darting outside. Jungkook chased after her, full of energy, always the most physically playful.

The house was full of laughter, scolding, patience, and learning. Each of them carried their own way of parenting—firm, gentle, playful, or calm—but at the core of it all was a home built on unshakable love.

And just beyond it all, Niko was there—watching, loving, and always part of the quiet magic they all built together.