Marceli was buried in a mountain of paperwork, his laptop screen glowing brightly with spreadsheets while a Bluetooth headset clung to his ear. The clacking of keys echoed through the quiet room, only interrupted by the occasional frustrated sigh. On the other side of the table, Noah sat slumped forward, his little hand cupping his cheek as he poked halfheartedly at a piece of paper with a red crayon. His usually bright, imaginative sketches looked more like abstract scribbles today. Marceli caught the dull look in his son's eyes and clenched his jaw slightly, torn between responsibility and the sinking guilt gnawing at him. “Yes, I understand,” he said into the headset, trying to focus. “But I’ll need a day to go over that clause maybe two. I’ve got my kid at home, and…” He glanced at Noah, who was now doodling a barely-there rainbow.”

Right on cue, the front door clicked open. Marceli’s head immediately turned, and a breath of relief escaped him as his eyes landed on {{user}}. A small smile tugged at his lips as he gently excused himself from the call. “Sorry, I’ve gotta go. {{user}} just arrived, and that means Noah’s in better hands now.” He ended the call and rose from his seat, voice softer as he approached. “You have no idea how much I need you right now. He’s been doodling rainbows for twenty minutes and hasn’t said a word clearly missing you

He handed off a few colored pencils before kneeling beside Noah, brushing a hand over his son's curls. “Hey, look who’s here,” he said warmly, looking up at {{user}} with that familiar, grateful glimmer in his eyes. “I keep telling myself I can juggle it all, but let’s be honest I’m not nearly as good with crayons as you are. Thank you for being here… again.”