"Chloe, go and wake up Daddy!"
A woman called out, her voice soft yet filled with warmth, as she moved gracefully around the kitchen.
The morning light streamed through the windows, casting a golden glow on her as she prepared breakfast, every movement a dance of effortless beauty.
Her name was Sarah.
Sarah was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman in the world, not just in appearance but in the way she radiated love and kindness
"Okay, Mama!" Chloe chirped in response, her small voice carrying the innocence of childhood.
She carefully climbed down from her chair, her tiny feet padding softly against the wooden floor as she made her way toward the bedroom.
With each step, her excitement grew.
Chloe’s little heart swelled with love for her daddy, her hero.
She tiptoed into the dimly lit room, where the curtains were still drawn.
The peaceful silence was only broken by the soft, steady breathing of the man who was lying in the bed.
Yup. That man is me.
My daughter climbed up onto the bed, her small hands gripping the covers as she leaned over me.
"Daddy, wake up! Wake up!"
She whispered, her voice filled with the sweetness only a child can muster.
She gently shook my shoulders.
As soon as I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was her tiny, beaming face.
Her large brown eyes sparkled with life, filled with the innocent joy that only a child can possess.
Her dark hair was pulled back into a little ponytail, with a few strands rebelliously framing her round face.
The sight of her, so full of life and energy, made my heart swell with a love so deep it almost hurt.
How could anyone be so utterly adorable?
"Good morning, sweetie," I murmured, my voice still heavy with sleep, as I leaned in to kiss her soft, chubby cheek.
It was like pressing my lips to the petal of a delicate flower, smooth and warm, a sensation I never wanted to forget.
But before I could fully savor the moment, Chloe’s little fist came down on my head in a playful thump.
"Bad Daddy!" she declared with mock seriousness, her voice trying to sound stern but failing as a giggle escaped her lips.
Her tiny punch didn’t hurt in the slightest—it was more like a feather brushing against me.
"Don’t touch my cheeks without permission!" she scolded, her small brows furrowing into a pout.
Her attempt to look angry was so endearing, it was almost impossible not to laugh.
The corners of my mouth twitched as I tried to suppress the smile that threatened to break free.
Her expression, so serious and determined, made her look even more precious.
Even in her mock anger, Chloe was the funniest, cutest little person I’d ever seen.
I could feel a bubble of laughter rising in my chest, but I held it back, not wanting to ruin her moment of pretend authority.
To her, this was serious business, and I was more than happy to play along, relishing every second of our morning ritual.
"Ah! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please forgive me," I pleaded, my hands raised in mock surrender as I looked into those big, brown eyes.
Chloe stared at me for a moment, her little face still scrunched in a pout, but then, as quickly as her stern expression had come, it melted away.
"Okay. I forgive you," she declared with a tiny nod, her voice filled with the gravity of a royal pardon.
Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
"Let's go, Mama is waiting."
Without another word, she turned and began marching toward the kitchen, her small legs carrying her with a determined little stride that never failed to make me smile.
I watched her for a moment, marveling at the incredible being she was growing into, before sighing contentedly.
"Haa, time to go," I murmured to myself, stretching as I rose from the bed.
The soft sheets rustled as I moved, a gentle reminder of the warmth and comfort I was leaving behind.
As I walked toward the kitchen, the familiar scent of breakfast wafted through the air, filling the house with a comforting aroma that spoke of home.
When I rounded the corner, there she was—my wife, the woman who had made every moment of my life richer, fuller, more beautiful.
"You're awake, dear," Sarah greeted me with a smile, her voice as soft and welcoming as ever.
Her dark eyes sparkled as they met mine, and her black hair, tied back with a simple rubber band, framed her face in a way that made my heart skip a beat.
She was standing by the stove, her movements as fluid and graceful as ever, even in the simplicity of her morning routine.
I paused for a moment, just taking her in.
There was no doubt in my mind that Chloe had inherited her beauty and charm from Sarah.
The way her eyes twinkled with mischief, the softness of her features, even the playful tilt of her smile—it was all there, in this amazing woman who had given me everything.
Sure, Chloe might have my eyes, but the rest of her—the cuteness, the laughter, the spark that made her who she was—that all came from Sarah.
I often found myself in awe of how lucky I was, to be surrounded by such beauty, both in the woman I loved and the daughter we had created together.
"Yes, good morning, dear!"
I greeted her with a smile, feeling a warmth spread through me just at the sight of her.
There was something about the way she stood there, cooking breakfast with such effortless grace, that took my breath away every time.
The apron she wore only added to her charm, accentuating her natural beauty in a way that made my heart swell with love and admiration.
She turned to me, her eyes dancing with that familiar mix of affection and gentle teasing.
"Get ready quickly, or you’re going to be late for work again," she chided, her voice carrying a soft note of concern beneath the playful scolding.
"Yes, go quickly, Daddy! You’ll be late again!"
Chloe echoed from her chair, her voice ringing out with the earnestness of a child who believes she’s helping.
Her little feet swung beneath the table, not quite reaching the floor, and she looked at me with those big brown eyes that always made me want to scoop her up and never let go.
I chuckled softly, knowing they were both right.
My morning routine had a way of dragging on when I was surrounded by these two, but who could blame me?
Every moment with them felt precious, like something to be savored.
"And you too, Chloe," Sarah added, glancing over at our daughter with a gentle smile.
"Go and get ready for kindergarten."
"As you command, Mama," Chloe replied with a playful salute, her eyes shining with excitement.
She slid off the chair with a flurry of movement, her little legs already racing toward her room to fetch her dress.
Her enthusiasm for the day ahead was infectious, filling the house with a sense of energy and joy that made everything feel just a little bit brighter.
"And you should try to wake up more quickly, dear," Sarah added with a soft but firm tone, her eyes narrowing playfully as she tried to maintain her mock sternness.
There was an unmistakable tenderness in her voice, though, a blend of love and concern that made her gentle scolding feel like a warm embrace.
I couldn’t help but smile at her.
"Okay, as you say, dear," I replied, raising my hands in surrender.
"I’ll be quick."
With that, I hurried off toward the washroom, the thought of her sweet smile urging me to move faster.
Once in the washroom, I quickly brushed my teeth, the cool minty taste jolting me fully awake.
I moved swiftly through the rest of my morning routine, every motion efficient and practiced.
The water from the shower was refreshingly cool, washing away the last remnants of sleep as I let my mind clear, focusing on the day ahead.
After my bath, I returned to the bedroom, where the soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over everything.
I dressed in my office uniform, the familiar fabric fitting snugly as I buttoned up my shirt.
As I fixed my brownish orange hair in the mirror, I took a moment to adjust my usual glasses, the final touch that made me feel ready to face the world.
Finally, I made my way back to the kitchen, where the table was set with breakfast.
The sight of the warm meal Sarah had prepared, the aroma of freshly cooked food filling the air, made me feel even more grateful for the life I had.
I sat down and began eating quickly, savoring each bite but mindful of the time.
Yet, even in my rush, I couldn’t help but steal a glance at Sarah, still bustling around the kitchen, and think about how lucky I was to have her by my side.
As usual, Chloe was being her adorable, stubborn self, pushing the vegetables around her plate with a little frown.
Her tiny nose scrunched up in mild protest, but Sarah was patient and firm, guiding each bite toward our daughter’s reluctant mouth.
I watched the exchange, trying to stifle a laugh as Chloe tried to outwit her mother with exaggerated grimaces and dramatic sighs, only to be met with gentle persistence.
Sarah, with her unshakable calm and soft encouragement, managed to get Chloe to finish every bite, and the sight of it filled me with a deep, contented joy.
There was something so pure and loving in these simple, everyday moments—a mother ensuring her daughter’s well-being, a daughter playfully resisting, and the love that tied it all together.
After finishing my breakfast, I stood up and quickly grabbed my bag, slinging it over my shoulder as I prepared to leave.
The morning sun was now fully up, casting a warm light through the windows and making everything feel brighter, more alive.
"Take care, dear," Sarah said, her voice carrying that familiar note of concern and affection.
It was a simple phrase, but one that wrapped around me like a protective shield as I headed out into the world.
"You too, dear," I replied, leaning in to steal a quick peck on her lips.
It was a fleeting touch, soft and warm, but it was enough to carry her love with me throughout the day.
I turned to Chloe, who was still sitting at the table, her big brown eyes watching me with a mixture of love and curiosity.
"Bye, sweetie," I called out, waving to her with a smile.
"Bye, Daddy!" she chirped back, waving her little hand energetically.
Her voice was full of innocence and joy, a sound that I would carry with me, echoing in my heart long after I left the house.
With one last look at my beautiful family, I quickly exited the house, stepping out into the fresh morning air.
As I walked down the road, my thoughts still lingering on the warmth of my home, a familiar voice called out, pulling me from my reverie.
"Hey, lad! Are you going to work now?" the voice of Mr. Thomas, my elderly neighbor, reached my ears.
His tone was warm and friendly, with that slight rasp that comes with age.
I turned to see him standing by his garden fence, a gentle smile on his weathered face.
His gray hair was neatly combed, and he leaned slightly on his cane, a familiar sight that always brought me comfort.
"Yes, Mr. Thomas," I replied, returning his smile with one of my own.
Mr. Thomas had been a constant in my life for as long as I could remember.
After my parents passed away in that tragic accident, it was he and his wife who had taken me in, guiding me through my grief and teaching me the lessons of life.
To me, he and his wife were more than just a neighbor—they were family.
"Why don't you take your car?" he asked, his brows knitting together with concern.
It was a question he often posed, his protective nature showing itself in these small, caring gestures.
"Public buses are faster, Mr. Thomas," I explained with a chuckle, knowing he would find my response unconvincing, as he always did.
He was from a different time, one where cars were cherished possessions, symbols of independence and freedom.
To him, the idea of choosing a bus over a car was a bit puzzling.
"Is it so?" he mused, though I could see the doubt in his eyes.
Still, he let it go, his concern shifting to my well-being instead.
"Be careful at work, lad."
"I will. Thank you, Mr. Thomas," I said, touched by his concern.
"Bye, Mr. Thomas." I gave him a quick wave, knowing he would watch me until I was out of sight, just as he had done when I was a boy heading off to school.
As I continued down the road, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of gratitude for the people in my life—Sarah, Chloe, Mr and Mrs Thomas.
They were my anchors, the ones who had shaped me, guided me, and loved me through all the twists and turns of life.
But I have to hurry now.
The bus would be arriving soon, and if I don't pick up my pace, I really would be late.
With one last glance back at Mr. Thomas, who was still watching me with that gentle, fatherly concern, I quickened my steps, the cool morning air filling my lungs as I made my way to the bus stand, ready to face the day ahead.