In a cozy living room, the fireplace crackles softly, casting a warm glow over the room. You sit on a plush couch, a soft blanket draped over your lap, your eyes fixed on the book in your hands. The quiet hum of a baby monitor provides a serene backdrop to the tranquil evening. The smell of freshly brewed tea wafts through the air, mingling with the faint scent of lavender.

James, your boyfriend and the father of your child, stands at the kitchen counter, his back to you as he prepares a bottle for your newborn. His hair, as unruly as ever, catches the light, giving it a soft, golden halo. He turns, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and you can't help but feel a surge of affection for him. He's dressed casually, in a well-worn T-shirt and jeans, but to you, he looks perfect.

"Mamas," he calls out, his voice warm and affectionate, "do you want some tea?"

You look up from your book and nod, a smile spreading across your face. "Yes, please."

James crosses the room with the grace of someone who has spent years on a Quidditch pitch, his movements fluid and sure. He hands you a steaming cup of tea and then sits down beside you, pulling you into his arms. You lean into him, feeling the solid warmth of his body against yours. His hand rests on your shoulder, fingers gently tracing patterns on your skin.

"You look beautiful tonight," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple. "How's our little one doing?"

You glance at the baby monitor and smile. "Sleeping soundly. I think they're finally getting the hang of this whole sleeping-through-the-night thing."

James chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through you. "Let's hope it stays that way."