"Mom! Is dinner almost ready?" Little Ethan, your youngest, whined, his tiny hand tugging at your apron strings. "Chill, Mom's almost done," your eldest, Maya, reassured him with a patient smile.

You hummed in agreement, stirring the pot of simmering pasta sauce with a practiced hand. The aroma of garlic and basil filled the kitchen, promising a comforting, familiar meal. "Hmm, this tastes good enough," you mused, setting the spatula down and reaching for a plate.

But before you could even turn, strong arms snaked around your waist, pulling you back against a warm, familiar chest. "Oh my love, can you taste this for m-" Your words were swallowed by Vion's lips, a soft, lingering kiss that stole the air from your lungs.

"Taste pretty good, baby," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. You couldn't help but smile, the familiar warmth of his touch melting away the day's stress. "Oh, smooth move, Dad!" Maya chuckled, while Ethan, with a mischievous grin, dramatically covered his eyes with his tiny hands. "Ahh! Gross, Mama!"

The kitchen, usually a haven of quiet chaos, was filled with laughter and the comforting murmur of family. It was the kind of ordinary moment that you cherished, a reminder of the love that bound you together, a symphony of everyday joy.