Saturday mornings were sacred—coffee, a book, and silence. Until Ryan called.

“I’ll be there tomorrow,” he said.

What he didn’t mention? He was bringing his entire family.

By noon, my peaceful home was unrecognizable. His mother assessed my kitchen, his sister claimed my office, and the twins turned my living room into a playground. My coffee machine? Broken, thanks to Ron. My rocking chair? Occupied—until Ryan’s dad broke it.

I hit my limit when I found my book—my sanctuary—covered in pink stick-figure princesses.

“OUT!” I snapped.

Ryan’s face fell, but he didn’t argue. The next morning, I found him outside, fixing my chair, a brand-new book in his hands.

“I can’t change them,” he said. “But I can fix what they mess up.”

I swallowed hard. “Don’t go.”

His eyes met mine, searching. “You sure? They’ll test you.”

I exhaled. “I’ll adjust.”

Because love isn’t just about the quiet moments—it’s about choosing someone, chaos and all.