Fatima's POV
It was barely sunrise when I felt the comforter shift and those tiny little hands start climbing their way across the bed. I didn't even need to open my eyes to know who it was — Kolby and her early morning snuggles are a daily tradition at this point.
She flopped herself right between Zac and me, curls wild and eyes still puffy from sleep, clutching her blanket and her elephant like she had important business to handle.
"Mommy," she whispered, nudging my shoulder.
"Hmm?"
"Daddy takin' your cuddles. Move, Daddy."
I cracked one eye open and looked over just in time to catch her little hand shoving Zac's arm off me with all the sass her tiny body could muster.
Zac blinked, still half asleep. "Kolby... for real?"
She popped her pacifier out, sat up, and pointed to the edge of the bed like she paid bills. "Go, Daddy. Mommy mine."
I couldn't help it—I laughed. Quietly, but I laughed.
"Dang, babe, you heard my baby," I said, stifling a grin. "She said get out."
Zac gave me that dramatic, half-offended glare. "You just gon' let her do me like that?"
I shrugged, biting my lip. "You gotta take that up with your daughter, not me."
He sighed like a man who knew when he'd lost, kissed my forehead, kissed Kolby's cheek which she wiped off, by the way and got up muttering, "I'll remember this betrayal."
As soon as he left, Kolby tucked herself into my arms, pressed her face into my chest, and knocked right back out like she didn't just evict her daddy like a little landlord.
And I laid there for a while, rubbing her back, smiling into the silence. Because even though she's a whole sass queen in training, she's still my soft little baby. She just wanted her mama this morning, and I wasn't about to say no to that.
The rest of the day was exactly what we both needed.
Pancakes. Sidewalk chalk. Coloring outside the lines and blowing bubbles until we were both covered in sticky soap.
Around lunchtime, while we were sitting on the floor eating little peanut butter sandwiches
her request, she looked up at me with those big brown eyes and said,
"Mommy... me like when you don't work."
Whew.
I smiled through the ache in my chest and kissed the top of her head. "I like when I don't work too, baby."
Because as much as I love what I do — the acting, the lights, the creativity, the grind — there's nothing like days like this. Nothing like the weight of her body curled against mine or her tiny voice claiming me like I'm her whole world.
And honestly?
On days like this, I am.
And I wouldn't trade that for anything.
Even if her daddy got kicked out to make it happen.
Zac's POV
The way Kolby don't mess with me when Ti's around is honestly insane.
Like, I swear I be invisible.
It don't matter if I'm the one who poured her juice, opened her fruit snacks, fixed the iPad, and turned on Bluey. The moment she hears Fatima's voice?
I'm chopped liver.
Fatima can walk into the room and all of a sudden I go from "Daddy, come play" to "Move, Daddy... Mommy sit here."
I wish I was exaggerating.
Yesterday, I tried to give Kolby a hug. She leaned away and said, "No thank you. Mommy give me hugs."
I just stood there like... damn.
