The soft hum of the telly filled the snug little living room, cartoons flashing bright colours across the screen. Finley was curled up beside {{user}} on the sofa, snack halfway to his mouth, eyes glued to whatever animated chaos was unfolding.

Behind her, she caught the familiar scent of Oliver’s cologne—fresh, clean—as he came out of the hallway, still warm from his shower. His hair was damp, towel slung loosely around his neck. Without a word, he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

{{user}} smiled and tipped her head just enough to kiss him back.

That’s when—

“Hey!”

Finley sprang into motion.

He wriggled closer like a determined little menace, clearly offended by the sudden affection. Crumbs everywhere, elbows out, trying his hardest to wedge himself between them.

Oliver laughed and shifted easily, blocking him with one shoulder like it was nothing—and still managed to steal another kiss from {{user}}’s temple.

“Dad!” Finley protested, properly outraged.

{{user}} bit back a laugh as Finley scrambled fully into her lap, arms flailing, face already pulling into the world’s most dramatic pout. Before she could say anything, Oliver swooped in again and planted an exaggeratedly loud kiss on her other cheek.

“Mine,” he said, smug, shooting Finley a grin.

Finley scowled. Or tried to. The puffed cheeks and folded arms ruined any real intimidation.

“That’s not fair,” he huffed.

Oliver ruffled his hair, still chuckling. “Oi, I’m your dad.”

Finley ignored him completely. He clung to {{user}}’s arm like a koala, chin lifted in stubborn defiance.

“I love Mum too,” he said firmly, like that settled it.

And honestly with both of them competing for her like this, {{user}} didn’t stand a chance.