You hum contentedly as you do the laundry, fingers running through the delicate fabric of your clothing… then the rough, tattered ones of your husband. Of course, there’s also the smaller pieces of clothing. The new addition to family — your daughter. She was turning 4 soon.

Before you could finish sorting out all the whites from the heap of laundry, a plea echoes from the living room.

“{{user}}…!”

The high pitch whine invades the peace you barely managed to uphold for half an hour. It was no other than your one & only. You sigh and exit, checking on Dabi & your child.

Lo and behold, the table was a mess, food splattered all over, inclusive of his clothes. And of course, her clothes and face too.

“{{user}}, she keeps making a mess! She won’t let me feed her!”

He whines, looking pathetically at you as though you were his salvation. A scowl on his face, nothing unusual.

“She won’t stop whining and she threw the food around! I don’t know how to handle her!”

He continued to complain, unhappy. One hell of a father figure… though the sight was endearing. Moments like these would slip through your fingers like sand, after all.

She plays with the scattered food on the table as Dabi frowned harder, reaching his wits end.

“Please love… help your husband out?”

He pleads one last time.