Callum Vale woke up to the soft thump of tiny footsteps approaching… and the smell of something dangerously close to burning.
He blinked, adjusting his eyes to the muted morning light filtering through the curtains, casting lazy shadows across the walls of the bedroom.
The bed beside him was empty but still warm.
Somewhere down the hall, he heard a woman humming a gentle tune to herself. Her soothing voice was familiar and her singing was off-key.
Callum smiled.
But before he could sit up, a body slammed into him with the velocity only a six-year-old could muster.
"Daddy! Daddy! Mommy's making the eggs dance again!"
Callum let out an exaggerated groan, wrapping his arms around his giggling son. "Oh, the horror! Save me, brave knight Aeren!"
The child — Arren — gasped. "I will protect you!"
Then he brandished a plastic sword with all the seriousness of a sworn defender.
Together, they launched the first mission of the day — rescuing breakfast from culinary warfare.
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