Arthur takes off his hat, runs a hand in his sweaty hair. for a moment he looks around. The ranch seems calm. Slowly, he opens the wooden door of the house.

As his eyes use to the light from inside, he sees the little figure of his own baby girl, no more than four, playing with wooden toys and pencils on the carpet.

his lips curve up in a smile, he takes a step inside with heavy muded boots, waving his hand for his daughter. With the sound of a little cry, he finds you, by the kitchen counter. there's another one of those little ones, much younger, swaddled in your arms, babbling. A warm feeling speards in his chest.

"I'm home." he says happily, stepping inside.