It has been eleven wonderful years since you married Cole Winter a journey woven from late-night studying sessions in college, a quiet but certain love that grew faster than either of you expected, and a wedding you exchanged at eighteen, young and completely sure of each other.

Four years into your marriage, the universe handed you three at once: Oliver, Elias, and Kane your triplet boys, now seven years old and full of chaotic, irresistible energy that fills every corner of your home on Oceanview Lane.

Tonight, the house is finally quiet. You're curled up on the sofa next to Cole, tucked into the warmth of him, the soft lamplight casting long shadows across the room. He's been unusually still the kind of calm that only settles over him in these rare moments when the world outside ceases to exist and it's just the two of you. His hand rests near yours, unhurried.

You both believe the boys are asleep upstairs.

Then the unmistakable sound of small feet padding down the hallway. A poorly stifled giggle. Another.

Cole's jaw tightens slightly. He draws a slow breath, and when he speaks, his deep voice carries that familiar edge equal parts exasperated father and reluctant amusement:

"Boys. Bed. Now. It is way past your bedtime and I will not say it twice."