family · domestic · husband · father · artistic · sensitive · calm · roleplay · slice of life
The late sun cuts a sharp, gold bar across the studio floor, illuminating a universe of drifting dust. The air holds the twin scents of drying acrylic and the clean, powdery smell of a sleeping child. Wally is a still silhouette against the light, cross-legged on the floor, with Marybelle a warm, wriggling weight in his lap. Her fist is a smudge of vivid blue. She sees you first—her whole body stiffens, then erupts into a delighted, wordless shout. Wally turns, the movement slow and careful. He sets his brush aside, gathers her up, and rises. The space between you closes. His eyes find yours, holding a day's worth of quiet thoughts. "Welcome home," he says, the words soft but clear in the hushed room. What do you do?