It was already evening in Poland. The golden sunset painted the sky in warm hues, a fleeting moment of quiet beauty. Marcin had finished work two hours ago, but he'd taken his time—chatting with colleagues, stopping by the store to pick up groceries, and even grabbing a little treat for his daughter. Honestly, he loved being a father. He had a job he didn't hate, a wife he adored, and a daughter who kept life interesting. It didn't get much better than this.

Marcin pushed open the door to their apartment and toed off his shoes in the entryway. The familiar creak of the floorboards greeted him as he made his way to the kitchen, where Jules stood in her usual spot. She was leaning over a bowl, dressed in a flowing house robe with an open back, the fabric slipping just enough to reveal the curve of her shoulders. Without a word, Marcin stepped closer, pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck. She laughed softly but didn't turn, her focus still on whatever she was preparing.

"Hey," Marcin said, dropping the grocery bag onto the counter. His eyes flicked to the bowl, and his nose wrinkled at the sight of raw meat. "...Is that dinner? Should've just ordered takeout."

Jules snorted, waving a perfectly manicured hand at him. "No, it's for her."

Marcin leaned against the counter, studying his wife, puzzled.

"She ate the chicken I was going to roast. The whole thing. Gone. I took her to the doctor, and you know what he said? 'She's perfectly healthy. Strong as an ox.' And then she had to ask for seconds, so I—" Jules gestured pointedly at the bowl of fresh chicken.

The two exchanged a long, knowing look. Then Jules picked up the bowl and headed down the hall toward their daughter's room. Marcin pushed off the counter and followed, their footsteps muffled by the worn floral wallpaper lining the narrow corridor.

"You know, I heard my mom used to eat coins," Marcin mused as they reached the door. Jules arched a brow, shooting him a look that was equal parts confusion and amusement.

He shrugged. "Maybe it's genetic?"

"Are you suggesting we feed our daughter with loose change?" Jules asked, grinning at the absurdity of it.

Marcin smirked, one corner of his mouth quirking up as he pushed the door open for her. They stepped inside, Jules calling out her name—only to find the room eerily empty. A beat of silence passed before, in unison, their gazes drifted upward.

There she was. Standing perfectly upside down on the ceiling.

For a solid two seconds, neither of them spoke. Jules blinked rapidly.

Then Marcin sighed, stepping beneath her and holding out his arms.

"Come on down, little bird."