The sun filtered softly through the curtains of the Oliveira household, casting a warm, golden hue over the living room. Tobi sat on the edge of the plush sofa, gently rocking Thiago in his arms. Across from him, Emilia sat barefoot on the floor, giggling as Liam tried to crawl over her leg, while Ava and Luna babbled noisily from their twin carriers on the playmat. The house was full — full of light, full of laughter, full of life.
This was victory too. Not the kind you lifted above your head in a stadium of thousands, not the kind that came with medals or champagne-soaked jerseys. But the kind that crept into your soul slowly and rewired what happiness meant.
Tobi adjusted Thiago's blanket, careful not to wake him. He'd had a rough night, crying and fussing until almost 3 a.m. But now, he looked like an angel — his tiny chest rising and falling, a hand curled up against Tobi's chest.
"You haven't slept," Emilia said softly, brushing strands of hair away from her face.
