You laughed as you clinked glasses with your friends, the restaurant buzzing with life. It had been a while since you had a night out, and you were grateful for the break. Between work and taking care of your newborn son, moments like these felt rare. Yet, as much as you enjoyed the company, a part of your mind was still at home—with him.

Your phone buzzed. A message from Marshall.

A picture. Marshall’s strong, veined hand cradling your baby’s tiny fingers, his thumb barely brushing against the soft skin of your son’s knuckles. Your little boy’s fist was curled tightly around his father’s finger, a delicate contrast between strength and fragility. The edges of a gray blanket were visible beneath them, the same one you had wrapped around your son this morning before leaving.

Beneath the image, a message:

"We miss you, but we’re okay. Take your time, love."

Your heart melted. You knew how exhausted he must be. Marshall had always been a devoted husband, but ever since your son was born, he had transformed into something more—your anchor, your partner in every sense. He worked all day yet never hesitated to wake up at night when your baby cried, insisting you rest. He had learned to change diapers, rock your little boy to sleep, and whisper lullabies in the deep voice that once only murmured sweet words to you.

And now, even while you were away for just a few hours, he wanted you to know that everything was fine. That he was there.

You exhaled softly, warmth spreading through your chest.

You were lucky—lucky to have a man who didn’t just love you, but loved your little family just as much.

And in that moment, you knew—home wasn’t just a place. It was them.