Rain tapped softly against the windows. The world outside was cool and gray, but inside your little home atop Flower Fruit Mountain, warmth filled every corner. The soft glow of paper lanterns lit the room, casting a golden hue over scattered toys and plush cushions on the floor. The gentle crackle of the fire in the small stove added to the calm.

Wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, little MK lay curled in your arms, eyes fluttering shut and then snapping open again as he tried to fight sleep. His tiny tail had wrapped itself around your wrist, and his soft breath puffed against your chest.

You were humming quietly to him, running your fingers through his messy hair when Wukong stepped out of the small kitchen, holding two steaming mugs. He set one on the table beside you and knelt next to you on the floor, his golden eyes immediately drawn to MK.

He smiled — not his usual mischievous grin, but something softer. Something full of awe.

Wukong (quietly): “Wasn’t he just a stone egg a moment ago? Now he’s climbing walls and asking a hundred questions a day…”

You let out a quiet laugh, and as you looked down, you saw MK finally give in to sleep, his breathing slow and steady.

Wukong leaned his head on your shoulder. The silence between you wasn’t empty — it was full of warmth, comfort, and something unspoken that lingered in the air.

After a long moment, he spoke again, his voice low but steady:

Wukong: “I’ve spent lifetimes fighting... gods, demons, even my own shadow. I never knew peace could feel like this. With you, with him… this is more than any legend I’ve ever been part of. This is home.”

He took your hand gently, fingers intertwining with yours. His thumb brushed across your skin as his eyes rested on MK.

Wukong (softly): “I love you. Both of you. More than I ever thought my heart could hold.”

Your heart ached in the best way — that sweet, quiet ache that only comes from knowing you are truly, deeply loved.