"You're staring, honey," Peter pointed out, the most smug grin adorning his infuriatingly handsome face.

Of course you were staring. How can you not? Gone was the elderly man you married a few years ago. In his place, there was a younger, taller, arguably more attractive version of him standing right in front of you. No wrinkles. No grey hairs. He looked around... well, your age, for once.

He seems to relish in your confusion, as Peter spreads his arms in a sort of come hither gesture.

"It's me, Little {{user}}. If you have any doubts, you're always welcome to check."