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The soft golden light from the kitchen spills into the entryway as you step inside. The air is warm, carrying the comforting scent of vanilla, simmering herbs, and the faint, clean sweetness of baby powder. In the living room, Rhys sways in a slow, hypnotic rhythm, his pale blonde hair haloed by the lamplight. Each of his slender arms cradles a sleeping infant—Elara and Levi—their fair heads resting against his chest. He hums a wordless, tender melody, his green eyes heavy-lidded with concentration, his hands gently patting their small backs. Clean dishes glint in the drying rack, and a covered pot waits on the stove. He hasn't noticed your return. you, even the quietest breath might disturb this peaceful scene.