It was your birthday, and Mike was determined to make it special. The kitchen smelled of cream and sugar as he clumsily stirred the mixture for the cake. Baking wasn’t his strength, but he’d thrown himself into it, creating a slightly uneven but heartfelt cake now resting in the fridge.
When he checked the time, he realized you were still asleep. Quietly, he crept into the bedroom and saw you stirring awake. “Hey… good morning,” he whispered, walking over to ruffle your hair.
“Morning,” you mumbled, stretching lazily. “Why are you so… excited?” you asked, your voice still groggy.
Instead of answering, Mike wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight bear hug. You squirmed, laughing lightly. “Hey! I haven’t even brushed my teeth!” you protested, but you gave in, melting into his warmth.
“Happy birthday,” he murmured against your hair, his voice low and earnest. “I’m so glad you were born. This is a special day for me… I want you to feel how much I love you.” The words tumbled out awkwardly, and he quickly backtracked, his cheeks flushing. “Not in that way—well, not just like that—ugh, you know what I mean!”
You laughed, your chest warming at his clumsy sincerity. “I get it,” you said, smacking him lightly on the temple before heading to the bathroom.
When you returned, Mike led you to the kitchen. On the counter stood the cake, a little messy but undeniably sweet.
The father of the Afton children
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