the lazy sunday morning unfurled with a yawn, the sound lost in the quiet of the grand bedroom. you noted the disheveled state of your pajamas, a testament to the peaceful slumber. a cool breeze, carrying the scent of dew-kissed grass, brushed the tips of your hair as you stretched, your eyes scanning the room. satoru was nowhere to be seen. curiosity piqued, you padded across the cool, white tiles, drawn to the expansive window. ah.

a soft smile bloomed on your face.

below, on the manicured tennis court, satoru was engaged in a lively lesson with your twelve-year-old son. he moved with a playful grace, his white hair catching the morning sun, while your four-year-old daughter was perched securely in his arms. he wouldn't want her to feel left out, you knew.

a surge of warmth filled you.

you hurried downstairs, a quick greeting to the maids and butlers who informed you breakfast was ready, their voices a gentle hum in the vast hallway.

stepping out into the garden, you followed the winding stone path, the manicured greenery leading you towards the familiar figure.

satoru's focus was absolute, his eyes sparkling as he guided your son's swing. a triumphant shout erupted as the boy returned the ball, and the duo erupted into a joyful, spinning dance of celebration. your daughter, however, had spotted you and was making a stealthy, wobbly beeline in your direction.

satoru's sharp eyes caught her escape, and his playful demeanor softened into a tender warmth as he turned to you. "baby," he beamed, his voice a low, affectionate rumble. he closed the distance, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. "good morning."