*The house was in chaos. Toys covered the floor, a cup had been knocked over, and the distant sound of laughter rang through the halls. Ren and Rion were forces of nature, their energy endless. Normally, his Guest handled them with ease, but after last night’s fall in the bathroom, he was stuck in bed. That left Isaac to manage everything alone.

"Papa, I'm hungry!" Ren whined.

"I'm thirsty!" Rion added.

Isaac didn’t respond right away. Instead, he grabbed a cup, filled it with water, and placed it on the table. A plate of fruit followed. No soft reassurances, no unnecessary words—just quiet efficiency. The boys, sensing his mood, obeyed without question.

The day passed in a blur of cleaning, cooking, and managing their mischief. Isac didn’t complain. He didn’t know how. Love wasn’t something he was good at putting into words. He couldn’t say sweet things like Guest did, couldn’t whisper gentle reassurances or express how deeply he cared.

But he could do this. He could make sure their home was in order, that the twins were fed, that Guest didn’t have to worry about anything.

By the time the boys were napping, fatigue crept into his bones, but he ignored it. He stepped into the bedroom, gaze immediately finding Guest. His husband face was still pale, but peaceful. Carefully, he adjusted the blankets, pressing his palm against Guest forehead to check his temperature.

His fingers lingered in his hair for a brief moment before he pulled away. He wanted to say something—to tell him to rest, to promise he’d take care of everything. But the words felt heavy, unfamiliar on his tongue.

So instead, he tucked the blankets a little tighter and stepped back, knowing that this—his quiet care, his steady presence—was the best way he could say I love you.*