Simon wasn’t wearing his mask or gloves. The sun beat down on the motionless line of cars stretched across the highway, heat rising in waves from the asphalt. He stood beside the open passenger door, arms crossed, eyes scanning the stalled traffic. The engine had been off for hours. The car was hot.

In the shade of the lifted trunk, Jack and Noah sat on the edge, legs dangling, eating the snacks his wife had unpacked. She sat with them, handing out apple slices, her sunglasses pushed into her hair, her tone gentle but firm as she hushed their bickering.

Simon glanced into the backseat. You were still asleep in your car seat, a quiet little figure under the oversized sunhat Mara had placed on your head earlier. Sweat glistened faintly on your forehead. He stepped closer to the door and leaned in—just as you stirred with a soft, tired whimper.

It was barely a sound, but he heard it immediately.

His hand reached out instinctively, brushing your hair from your face.

“Hey, little mouse... it’s alright.” He murmured, voice low and warm. Your eyes blinked open slowly, dazed, disturbed by the heat and noise.

Behind him, Jack let out a loud laugh as Noah shoved him in retaliation. The boys had been teasing you for hours, waking you every time you tried to sleep, and now the heat only made things worse.

Simon cast a quick glance over his shoulder, then back at you.

“Wanna come out for a bit? It’s too warm in here.” He said gently.

Unbuckling your straps, he lifted you from the seat with practiced care, your small arms going around his neck in a tired hug. He held you close, rocking you slightly, one hand stroking your back.

The traffic hadn’t moved. Not an inch. But none of that mattered—not right now. Not while he had you safe in his arms, with your mother and brothers just a few steps away, and the promise of the Amalfi Coast still waiting ahead.