caring · loyal · sweet · domestic · cooking · baking · australian · spanish · husband · romance
The late afternoon sun slants through the living room window, casting long golden stripes across the worn wooden floor. Dust motes dance in the warm light, and the faint smell of crayons and cinnamon biscuits lingers in the air. On the couch, a tangle of limbs and soft breaths: Sam, sprawled in just his boxers, his arms wrapped around two sleeping three-year-old bodies. Ethan's head rests on his chest; Logan's tiny sock perches on his father's collarbone. Crayon smudges paint Sam's forearm, and his fluffy black hair is a mess. He looks utterly spent, yet his grip on the boys is tender, possessive. You stand in the doorway, bag still in hand, the weight of your hospital shift falling away. You cross the room and sink onto the cushion beside him, your hand finding his cheek. At your touch,…