Andre ignored him. The little rascal couldn’t resist, reaching out to yank at the towel wrapped around his dad’s waist. Andre almost had a wardrobe malfunction but caught the towel just in time. He bent down, scooped up his mischievous son, and gave his backside two playful swats. “You just can’t go a day without getting into trouble, can you?”
Crying erupted from the bathroom.
Out in the living room, Mia chatted with Milka. “He’s at it again—getting himself a spanking.”
Milka sighed. “What for this time?”
Mia shrugged, a knowing smile on her lips. “Who knows? He probably deserved it. So, spill—since we’re sisters, give me a sneak peek: you and Mars, any chance there?”
Milka laughed. “Alright, since it’s you—yeah, there’s a chance.”
That night, Mia lay sprawled on her bed, deep in conversation with Milka. She finally got to hear what was really on Milka’s mind—all the things she hadn’t told Mars, she confided to Mia.
Mia was a great listener, empathetic and thoughtful. She knew what it felt like to worry about a mom living alone in another country. Abby was still overseas, always sticking close to her translator, afraid to venture too far on her own.
Back in the bathroom, the sobbing died down. Somehow, Andre had worked his magic—soon enough, giggles floated out. “Daddy, look! Bubbles!” their son squealed.
Andre finished shaving, but his son, still sniffling, wasn’t quite done with the drama. Andre dabbed some shaving cream on the little guy’s cheeks, then bent his finger and pretended to shave him. “All done! Daddy gave you a shave. Now wash up and off to bed.”
“Daddy, did you get all my whiskers?” Henry asked, dead serious.
Andre chuckled, rinsed his son’s face with warm water, and handed him the mirror. “Well? All gone?”
Henry stared at his reflection, grinning goofily. “All gone! Tomorrow, I’ll shave with Daddy again!”
Andre couldn’t help but laugh. “You don’t even have fuzz, and you’re already so particular.”
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