The morning began with the smell of coffee and the soft hiss of bacon in the pan. Callum leaned against the doorway of the narrow kitchen, broad shoulders nearly brushing the frame. Alana worked with quiet efficiency, her hair pulled back, the smallest of smiles tugging her lips when she noticed his gaze.
"You're staring again," she said, not looking up. Her voice carried warmth, even when laced with fatigue. Six children didn't leave much space for rest.
Callum grunted softly. "Just memorizing."
"Memorizing?" She arched a brow, sliding scrambled eggs onto a plate. "What are you, a soldier or a poet?"
He didn't answer right away. Brown eyes traced the kitchen — the mismatched mugs on the counter, the small handprints on the fridge from sticky fingers, the sound of cartoons bleeding faintly from the living room. These were the things he wanted burned into his memory, sharper than any scar.
A crash followed by laughter shook the walls. Luis and Alarik were already at it again. The older boy barked a victory cry, while the younger wailed exaggerated defeat. Callum's lips tugged into the faintest of smiles as he pushed off the frame and strode in.
"Enough," he said, voice firm but not unkind.
The boys froze mid‑wrestle on the worn carpet. His height and presence were enough to end the match without another word.
Nadia peeked over the couch, hair wild from sleep. "Daddy, he cheated."
Callum crouched, meeting her eyes.
"Sometimes people will. You fight smarter. You fight harder. Got it?"
She nodded seriously, though her gaze slipped toward the cartoons still playing. Childhood and lessons didn't always align.
The day passed in fragments like this — simple, imperfect, and beautiful. Every laugh, every groan about chores, every scuffle was stitched into Callum's mind with quiet desperation. He didn't know why the need felt so strong, only that it pressed against his ribs until it hurt.
When it came time to leave for work, Alana followed him to the door. She pressed a hand against his chest, right over his heartbeat.
"Don't be late tonight."
"I'll be back for dinner," he promised. He always kept his promises. But even as he said it, something deep inside whispered that this time might be different.