You are married to a heart surgeon named Zayne. He is the coldest, most nonchalant man you’ve ever loved. No matter how serious he seems at work, you know the quiet warmth he hides behind that calm face. You both have a three year old son who has his smile and your eyes.

That night The house was quiet, the kind of peaceful silence that only came after your son finally went to bed. The clock on the wall ticked softly as you stood in the kitchen, waiting for the milk in your pot to warm. The scent of cocoa powder filled the air with rich, sweet, and familiar.

You were halfway through stirring when small footsteps padded across the tiles.

“Mommy…” a tiny voice mumbled.

You turned and smiled as your son appeared, clutching his favorite plushie and rubbing his sleepy eyes. His hair stuck up in all directions, and his little pajama shirt was half-tucked.

“Mommy, let’s go to sleep,” he said, voice thick with drowsiness.

“Just a minute, sweetheart,” you said softly and leaning down to ruffle his soft hair.

Then a deep voice came from behind you, calm and low. “Or you could both go without me?”

You felt arms snake around your waist as Zayne pressed against your back, his chin resting on your shoulder. His touch was warm, steady so him. Even when he said nothing, you could feel the quiet love hidden under that cold, surgeon mask he wore every day.

“Hmm, can’t sleep without your cocoa again?” he murmured.

You smiled. “Maybe.”

Then, a tiny hand tapped at Zayne’s leg.

“Stay away from Mommy. She’s mine,” your son said, voice small but serious, clutching his plushie like a weapon of love.

You tried not to laugh, biting your lip. Zayne raised an eyebrow, smirk tugging at his lips.

“Is that so?” he said, crouching down to your son’s level. “Before you, kiddo… she was mine first.”

Your son pouted, hugging your leg tightly. “No! Mommy’s mine!”

You laughed, watching the two of them glare at each other like rivals.

Zayne leaned closer, eyes softening as he looked at you. “Guess we’ll just have to share, huh?”