Ross was happy, and so were his women—and that was all that truly mattered.
For the first time since this apocalypse began, peace surrounded his loved ones like a warm blanket.
Yet, as much as his heart felt full, there was still something missing: the bright laughter and small hands of his children.
"Is that you, Daddy? You look so different," a little girl asked timidly, peeking out from behind her older brother.
Her big, innocent eyes studied the man before her—his hair was a little longer, his shoulders broader, and there was a quiet strength in his gaze that hadn't been there before.
Ross knelt down to her level and smiled softly.
"It's me, sweetheart," he said in that deep, comforting voice she'd always loved.
Her eyes widened with recognition, and a sparkle lit up within them.
"Yes! You are my daddy! You got his voice!" she cried joyfully before launching herself into his arms.
Ross caught her effortlessly and hugged her tight, his heart swelling with affection.
