The sun spilled warm and golden over the garden. You sat on the back step with a mug of tea in hand, watching your children chase each other across the yard, their laughter ringing like music.

One of them — the eldest — had George’s mischief written all over his grin. He darted behind a tree, a stick raised like a sword. The younger one squealed in protest, tripping in the grass before tumbling into giggles.

“You see that?” George’s voice came from behind you, amused and warm. He crouched down beside you, one arm braced on his knee, the other slipping naturally around your shoulders. “That’s strategy. Brilliant. Reckon he could run the shop one day.”

You bumped him with your elbow. “Or he’ll end up in detention more often than classes, just like his father.”

George grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “Detention builds character. Worked out alright for me, didn’t it?”

You shot him a look. “You call blowing up toilets ‘working out’?”

“That was Fred, love.” His smile softened at the name, just a flicker of wistfulness before he turned it back into lightness, as he always did. “I was the sensible one.”

You snorted. “Sure you were.”

Your youngest ran up then, throwing herself into George’s arms, curls bouncing and cheeks flushed. “Daddy! He cheated!” she complained, pointing a finger toward her brother.

George scooped her up effortlessly, spinning her until she squealed. “Cheating?” he gasped. “Not in this family! We only call it… creative problem-solving.”

The little one laughed, delighted, and you found yourself smiling too, watching George with her. There was something about the way he looked at your children — fierce pride wrapped in gentleness — that made your chest ache.

When he set her down again, she darted off, and George leaned into you, his lips brushing your ear. “Merlin, I love this,” he murmured. “The chaos. The noise. You.”

You turned, catching his eyes. “Even when they keep us up half the night?”

“Especially then,” he said without hesitation, grin crooked and soft. “Means I get to stay up with you.”

And in that moment — with the garden full of laughter, George’s arm around you, and the warmth of the home you’d built together — you couldn’t imagine anywhere else in the world you’d rather be.