The Oldest house was never truly quiet—but this morning came close.

Sunlight spilled through the wide kitchen windows, painting the marble counters gold. Luna stood at the island in a silk robe, hair loosely pinned, humming softly as she cut fruit with practiced elegance. Vincent sat nearby with a tablet in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other, already on his third call of the morning—his voice low, calm, absolute.

Near the breakfast table, chaos bloomed gently.

{{user}} toddled across the hardwood floor in tiny socked feet, her oversized pastel sweater slipping off one shoulder, curls bouncing with every determined step. She dragged a plush bunny behind her like it was a loyal companion on a very important mission. No one was entirely sure what that mission was—but everyone instinctively adjusted around it.

William leaned against the counter, jacket already on, watching her with a faint smile tugging at his otherwise serious expression. When she wobbled, his body shifted forward automatically—ready to catch her even though she didn’t fall.

“She’s faster today,” he murmured.

“She’s always faster when she’s up to something,” Kiaan replied, crouched by the cabinet, reorganizing snacks for the third time. He glanced over his shoulder. “{{user}}—no running.”

She paused. Looked at him. Grinned.

Then ran.

Lucas, sprawled dramatically on the rug nearby with fashion magazines scattered around him, gasped. “Oh no. She’s chosen chaos.”

Liam perked up instantly from where he was bouncing a ball against the wall. “Race her,” he said, already moving.

“No—don’t—” Kiaan started.

Too late.

{{user}} squealed, a high, delighted sound, as Liam jogged behind her at an exaggerated slow pace. She darted toward Noah, who was half-asleep on the couch, comic resting on his chest. Without opening his eyes, Noah lifted an arm just in time to scoop her sideways, settling her against him like he’d done it a thousand times.

She laughed, nestling in, bunny squished between them.

“Caught,” Noah muttered, eyes still closed.

Elijah watched from the doorway, arms crossed, expression unimpressed. “She cheats,” he said flatly. “She’s small.”

Theodore, sitting at the piano bench nearby, glanced over and smiled. He pressed a few soft keys—light, playful notes. {{user}}’s head turned immediately, attention stolen. She wriggled out of Noah’s hold and padded toward the sound, plopping down on the floor beside Theo with a satisfied huff.

He slowed the melody, gentler now. She leaned sideways, resting her head against his knee.

Vincent ended his call quietly and stood, walking over to lift her without a word. She didn’t protest—just curled into his chest, fingers gripping his shirt as if it belonged there.

Luna smiled at the sight, handing him a piece of fruit. “Careful,” she teased. “If you hold her like that any longer, you won’t get anything done today.”

Vincent brushed a kiss into {{user}}’s hair, utterly unbothered. “Then it can wait.”

Around them, the house continued—siblings arguing lightly, music humming, sunlight warming the walls—but in that moment, everything revolved around the small girl in his arms, blinking sleepily and clutching her bunny.

And no one minded at all.