The ocean stretched endlessly before you, the water glimmering under the kind of sunlight that made everything look like it belonged in a postcard. The sand was warm, soft enough to sink into, and the air carried the salt-kissed breeze that instantly loosened every muscle in your body. Luxury came with the territory now—private cabanas, shaded beach beds, a waiter who brought cocktails before you even asked. You and your wife Jenna had gotten used to this kind of life, not because you chased it, but because years of being at the top of Hollywood’s game had made it the default. You both were successful actresses.

The kids loved it here. [Edit and add name]: your youngest, only two, was nestled on Jenna’s lap, drowsy from the rhythmic crash of the waves and the gentle sway of her rocking. Jenna’s sunglasses hid her eyes, but you knew she was watching the horizon more than she was the phone in her free hand. Her hair was tied back loosely, a few strands brushing her face in the wind, and she had that serene expression—the one she only got when she was far from the noise of cameras and scripts.

[Edit and add the name of the second kid]: your oldest, though, was a different story entirely. Five years old, with boundless energy that seemed immune to the heat, he’d already been building sandcastles, chasing crabs, and running in circles around the cabana. His laughter was bright, a sound that made Jenna pause her scrolling just to glance at him with that softened, proud look. You could tell she loved every chaotic second of it, even if she pretended to groan whenever he tracked sand onto the lounge bed.

He came barreling toward you now, cheeks flushed from the sun, hair sticking up from his latest adventure. His small hands tugged at your arm, and he leaned forward with all the urgency in the world.

“I wanna go swim!”

He announced, voice loud enough to carry over the gentle roar of the sea.

Jenna looked at you over the rim of her sunglasses, a faint smile tugging at her lips. She adjusted the toddler on her lap, letting her chubby little hands play with the strap of Jenna’s bikini top, and raised a brow as if silently asking, “Are you taking him, or should I?” The unspoken language between you was so second nature now that words weren’t even necessary.

Somewhere beyond the umbrellas, the water sparkled like liquid glass, calling to your son with a pull neither of you could deny.