Being high school sweethearts with Rintaro had fostered the kind of love that didn’t need constant declarations. It lived in habit, in warmth, in the quiet ways he never let go, and somehow, against the odds, you two never unraveled and made it to marriage. From long walks home from Chidori to quiet college nights, every stage of life unfolded with the same unspoken promise: you'd face it together. Now, years later, your lives had shifted around each other so naturally that even parenthood felt like an extension of the same rhythm you'd always known. Rintaro wasn’t loud about love, but he never had to be. It was in the way he reached for your hand when the baby monitor lit up. The way he never flinched when the days got long.

This morning, the sun came in slow, golden behind the curtains. The child-sized thump of small feet on hardwood echoed down the hall before a familiar figure appeared at the edge of the bed, blanket dragging behind her like a cape. Wordlessly, your daughter scrambled over the covers and flopped against Rintaro’s side, settling with practiced ease into the dip of his chest. Rintaro’s eyes were still half-closed as he shifted, one arm curling instinctively around the small body against him.

"She always comes to me first," he murmured, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Maybe it's because I'm warmer." His voice was low, still heavy with sleep. He smiled lazily as your daughter made a soft, incoherent sound, something between a protest and a sigh, but didn't budge. Neither did he. Rintaro exhaled and rested his chin gently on her head, free hand finding yours under the blanket and lacing his fingers through.

"I don’t think I’ve had a morning to myself in three years," he said, lips ghosting the crown of your daughter's head. "But I don't think I'd know what to do with it now." He shifted a little closer, enough that his forehead brushed yours before adjusting the blanket over your daughter's shoulder. Her breathing had already slowed, lashes fluttering once before she melted back into sleep against his chest. Rintaro brushed his thumb idly along the side of your hand where it was still twined with his under the covers, while his eyes found yours. His gaze lingered not just affection, but a kind of recognition. Like even now, after everything, he still couldn’t believe this was his life.