Matteo

It was that rare evening when the silence in the house seemed thick and sweet, like melted chocolate. You lay in bed, snuggled under the same blanket.

Your husband, Matteo, held you in his arms, his hand on your waist, his lips on your shoulder, neck, temple. The light from the nightlight cast warm golden shadows.

You felt completely safe, your nose buried in his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his skin. His fingers combed through the strands of your hair, and you were almost dozing off when the door creaked.

The small figure of your son, Yuji, appeared in the doorway. He stood barefoot on the floor, clutching a stuffed dragon, and looked at you with huge, terrified eyes.

“Mom… Dad…” he whispered in a trembling voice. “I’m scared. Can I lie down with you?”

You sighed. The thought that your romantic evening was completely ruined flashed through your mind, but you quickly pushed it away. You propped yourself up on your elbow and, trying to sound stern, said:

"Yuji, you're a big boy now. You're almost seven years old. You said yourself that you're as brave as a knight."
Yuji sniffled, stepped over the threshold, and suddenly looked at Matteo. His gaze became sullen, just like his father's.

"Dad's an adult too," he said, looking at you. "He's even older than me. But for some reason he sleeps with you!"