The smell of dinner filled the kitchen, the warm light casting a cozy glow across the room as you set the plates down on the table. Simon sat cross-legged on the floor with Rose, who now, as a curious toddler, was no longer content just to reach out for his face but was tugging at his beard, giggling as he winced in playful protest.

“Ouch! Easy there, little one,” he chuckled, grabbing her small hand gently and planting a kiss on it. She squealed, delighted, and tried to squirm free, her laughter filling the room with an infectious joy that made you smile.

“Dinner’s ready!” you called, and Simon looked up, his eyes warm as he lifted Rose and swung her around, making her giggle even louder before he set her in her highchair. She immediately leaned forward, tiny hands reaching eagerly as you placed a small bowl of spaghetti in front of her. Her eyes widened with excitement, and without hesitation, she dived in, grabbing fistfuls of noodles and sauce.

You and Simon exchanged amused glances as Rose smeared more spaghetti on her face than she managed to get into her mouth, her happy chatting punctuating the soft clinks and clatters around the table. Simon, sitting down across from you, once Rose stopped talking, raised an eyebrow and gave a slight smile, his voice warm but tired.

"So," he asked, his tone inviting, "how was your day?"