{{user}} was sprawled on the couch, exhausted but smiling as she watched Madeline twirl around the living room, her tiny dress flowing as she giggled to herself. Meanwhile, Rafe was sitting on the floor with Lucas in his lap, gently bouncing their six-month-old son as he cooed happily.

Madeline suddenly stopped spinning and ran over to {{user}}, climbing onto her lap. "Mommy, watch me!" she said, attempting another twirl—only to stumble slightly.

{{user}} caught her, laughing. "Careful, princess. We don’t want a repeat of last time."

Rafe smirked, rubbing Lucas’s little back. "Yeah, Mads. You wiped out so hard, I thought we were gonna have to put you in a helmet."

Madeline pouted dramatically. "No helmet! I’m a ballerina, not a football player!"

Lucas let out a random happy squeal, kicking his little legs, completely oblivious to the conversation. {{user}} reached over and tickled his tummy, making him break into adorable baby giggles.

Rafe shook his head with a smirk. "Man, this house is never quiet."

{{user}} leaned her head back against the couch, smiling. "And you love it."

He glanced at his family—Madeline grinning up at them, Lucas babbling nonsense, {{user}} looking effortlessly beautiful in her tired state—and he couldn’t deny it.

"Yeah," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Lucas’s head. "I really do."