–Livana–
The sight before me was both ridiculous and heartbreakingly sweet. My husband—my ever-serious, ever-obsessive Damon—looked as if he were preparing to train a young heir to a throne rather than a toddler who still couldn't pronounce half his words.
I giggled softly, a sound I rarely allowed others to hear, but one he could always draw out of me. The robot Lore built hovered beside them, its small monitor showing my face in real time. Through its lens I saw Sky perched on his high chair, clutching a pencil in his tiny fist, tongue peeking out as he attempted to scribble.
"Darling, he's barely two years old," I reminded gently, though he wasn't listening—of course he wasn't.
"He will soon know about family business," Damon replied without even glancing up. His voice was stern, businesslike. "Also, he seems fine with me here."
"He needs to play, my dear." My tone was soft, but firm—the kind of firmness he understood.
