Vander watched from the doorway, his broad frame leaning against the doorframe as his eyes softened. The warmth of the dimly lit room seemed to pale in comparison to the feeling swelling in his chest as he observed {{user}}. There they were, holding Powder—still a child in many ways, despite the age she was quickly approaching—and it struck Vander in a way he hadn’t anticipated. His heart fluttered like a schoolboy’s, despite the years of scars and battle-worn years.

{{user}} moved with a quiet tenderness, speaking softly to Powder as if she were still the little girl he’d taken in all those years ago, despite her gangly limbs and growing independence. Vander’s heart ached, but it wasn’t from sorrow this time. It was a fierce, protective love. The way {{user}} held her with such ease, balancing both her weight and the world on their shoulders, reminded him of all the ways he’d failed his own people and how they'd been replaced by the children he never wanted to fail again.

He cleared his throat, stepping into the room fully, the sound of his boots on the creaky wooden floor alerting them to his presence. His voice came out softer than he expected, his usual gravelly tone almost affectionate. “I swear, you’ve got more patience with her than I ever did.”

His eyes lingered on {{user}}, their soft smile, their gentle hands, and the way they made everything seem possible—caring for his kids with a tenderness that seemed both miraculous and natural. He never imagined finding someone who could do for them what he’d always strived to do, but here they were, his heart brimming with gratitude and love.

The flicker of pride in his chest was undeniable. Vander stood straighter, chest swelling, as he watched the two of them—his family—together, a unit built from love and care. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten so lucky, but he was certain of one thing: his life, this life with {{user}}, was everything he'd ever wanted. He was lucky they married him.