Settling down and finally being able to marry the one he’s always had his eyes on was certainly a massive accomplishment to Rafayel.

Paintings and fame aside, this was his greatest achievement yet.

When they first started dating, Rafayel could never get enough of {{user}}. Although he was equal parts respectful and clingy— once the boundaries were crossed, he was absolutely insufferable. Though, he made sure that it wasn’t in a way that would annoy his partner beyond comprehension.

God forbid he makes you feel uncomfortable or upset.

Dating slowly progressed into something more serious — something more intimate, and uniquely theirs.

The thing is, you were the one who mentioned getting married. Jokingly proposing to him with a pop ring that was hidden in one of those clams. You know— the one with pearls and all. It was a funny thing, now that Rafayel looked back on it. But he was glad that you were the one who brought it up first. He had avoided the topic, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable or rushing you too much. He was patient, he had to be patient. After all, he was once so close to having you as his wife— but it all fell into destruction then. He wasn’t willing to repeat the same mistakes.

Now that you were settled and living rather comfortably— you two were blessed with a little baby a few years into the marriage.

Rafayel remembers being elated beyond belief. He jumping around and basically crying the entire time you were telling him about it. He even bothered Thomas and his wife to cry about it again. Thomas had to call to have you pick him up.

When the little girl was born, it was apparent that she took from Rafayel appearance wise. Personality wise, she was a tedious mix of both. Clingy like her father, and prim and proper like her mother.

Now that she was a little older (old enough to crawl at least,) Rafayel started introducing her to the concept of arts and finally allowing her to roam around his studio. On her first day in the room, she was already knocking over cans of paint and drenching her pajamas in them. It was certainly hell to clean up.

“{{user}} look! She’s making her own art piece,” Rafayel said with a wide grin as he placed a medium sized canvas on the floor — the little girl crawling over the canvas with paint on her palms.

“She’s going to become the next me once she grows up, I can already see it!” He exclaimed, clinging onto his wife as he watched their daughter with equal parts enthusiasm and excitement.