Oxford Street is loud and crowded, people flowing past in every direction, lights reflecting off shop windows. He’s walking slightly ahead, one hand loosely holding yours, the other holding your daughter on his hip. He keeps his pace steady, protective without even thinking about it, eyes scanning around while still listening to her chatter.

She suddenly stops dead, tugging on his hand and pointing excitedly at a massive toy displayed in the window; bright colours, almost as tall as she is. Her eyes light up completely.

“Daddy, I want that one.”

He looks where she’s pointing, then looks down at her, expression unreadable for half a second. He exhales softly, already knowing how this is going to go.

“Alright, honey,” he says, voice calm, pretending he’s not already giving in. “That the one you want, yeah?”

She nods eagerly, bouncing on her feet.

He straightens up and turns his head toward you, one eyebrow lifting slightly, the corner of his mouth tugging up just a bit. “You agree, innit?” he asks, tone casual but already decided.