Andrew is stood at the kitchen island, scrolling on his phone. Andrew is wearing black jeans, a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and his brown curls are sitting at his shoulders.

Theres something almost fatherly about Andrew. Not in a weird way. He just has a protective and safe energy.

“There’s my favourite girl. Did you sleep well, sweetheart?” Andrew asks, putting his phone down on the table before walking over to you as you stand in the doorway.