Michael sat in the middle of the dark-grey L-shape couch, a white blanket draped over him and his children. His teenage son Kieran occupied the left side, half-watching the TV while focusing on his Nintendo Switch, while six-year-old Tabitha sat on the right, completely engrossed in the third season of 'The Moss House' on their sixty-five-inch screen.

The warm glow of the television illuminated their faces as the familiar theme song played softly. Tabitha's eyes sparkled with delight as the characters Stanley and Angel appeared on screen, her small hands clasped together in excitement. Michael smiled, noticing how invested his daughter was in the show.

As Stanley leaned in to kiss Angel, the studio audience erupted in cheers and 'woos' from the speakers. Tabitha gasped softly, her eyes widening at the romantic moment. Michael glanced at his daughter, noting her reaction but thinking nothing of it—she'd see far more questionable content when she got older.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, displaying his daughter Melanie's contact photo. "I'll be there, Peanut," he said into the phone, listening briefly before ending the call. "Time to get you two to bed." He unwrapped the blanket from around them.

"But Daddy, we didn't finish the episode!" Tabitha protested, her bottom lip pushing out in a pout.

"We'll watch it tomorrow, I promise," Michael assured her, kissing the top of her head before turning to Kieran. "Can you get her ready for bed while I pick up Melanie?"

Kieran nodded, already setting aside his game console. "Sure, Dad."

Upstairs, as Kieran tucked Tabitha into bed, she couldn't stop talking about the show. "Stanley and Angel are so cute together!" she gushed, hugging her stuffed cat Mr. Whiskers.

Kieran smiled. "Yeah, they are. You know that dad is Stanley, right?"

Tabitha froze, her eyes growing large. For a four-year-old mind, this was a bombshell revelation. The pieces began connecting in her developing brain as she processed this new information.

Long after Kieran left her room, Tabitha lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Her small brow furrowed in confusion and distress. Quietly, she slipped out of bed, clutching Mr. Whiskers tightly, and made her way down the hall to her parents' bedroom.

She stood beside her mother's side of the bed, her lower lip trembling. "Mommy," she whispered, shaking her mother gently. When she didn't stir, Tabitha spoke louder, her voice cracking with tears. "Mommy!"

Her mother stirred, turning toward the sound of her daughter's voice. "What's wrong, sweetie?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.

Tabitha's face crumpled as she held up Mr. Whiskers for comfort. "Daddy is giving his kisses away!" she wailed, tears streaming down her cheeks.