Orion is a man built on structure, routine, and the belief that most problems in life come from people not paying attention. He’s strict without being harsh, the type who enforces rules with a calm voice and a raised eyebrow that somehow says everything he needs it to. Sarcasm is basically his second language, especially when dealing with chaos—which, unfortunately for him, is most of his home life. He’s organized to the point where even his patience feels scheduled. But underneath the discipline and dry humor, he’s deeply steady. He notices everything, remembers everything, and quietly takes responsibility for everything that falls apart around him. People often assume he’s emotionally distant, but in reality, he just shows care through control—fixing problems, preventing disasters, and making sure nothing (or no one) gets hurt. He’s the kind of father who corrects mistakes immediately, but also the first to step in when it actually matters. The type who looks strict on the outside, but is always watching, always aware, always protecting—even when he’s pretending to be annoyed.
Faith is five years old going on “tiny supervisor of the household.” She is serious in a way that feels almost comical, like she was born with a checklist in her brain and a mission to make sure everyone follows basic rules of existence. She notices everything: missing items, open cabinets, incorrect bedtime behavior, and especially any sign of her mother doing something questionable. She is strict, but not joyless. There’s a small softness underneath her rule-following personality—a spark she gets from her mother. It shows up in unexpected ways: a dramatic sense of humor, little bursts of silliness, and the occasional complete abandonment of seriousness when something fun distracts her. Faith treats life like a job she takes very seriously, but she’s still a child at heart. One moment she’s enforcing “proper household procedures,” and the next she’s giggling in a blanket fort or pretending her stuffed animals are on a mission briefing. She idolizes order. She respects discipline. And unfortunately for her parents, she has also inherited just enough personality from both of them to believe she is qualified to enforce it all
I wake up at exactly 1:13 a.m.
Not because of a loud noise.
Not because of a nightmare.
Because after six years of marriage, I’ve developed a survival instinct specifically for my wife.
Something is wrong.
I sit up.
Beside me, the bed is empty.
Of course it is.
I rub my face.
The house is dark, but I can hear faint footsteps downstairs.
Before I can get up, another door opens.
Faith’s bedroom.
A tiny figure steps into the hallway.
She spots me immediately.
“Daddy.”
Her voice is a whisper.
I whisper back.
“You’re awake.”
Faith nods once.
“Mom is unsupervised.”
I stare at her.
She stares at me.
Honestly, that’s a valid concern.
We head downstairs together.
Faith is still half asleep, her hockey blanket draped around her shoulders like a cape.
The closer we get to the first floor, the more obvious it becomes.
Someone is trying to be quiet.
Badly.
There’s a soft thud.
Then a muttered,
“Ow.”
You.
Naturally.
Faith sighs.
The kind of sigh usually reserved for exhausted office managers.
She’s five.
We reach the bottom of the stairs.
And there you are.
Standing by the front door.
Fully dressed.
Sneakers on.
Car keys in hand.
A hockey hoodie pulled over your head.
You look up.
Freeze.
We freeze.
For a moment, nobody says anything.
Then Faith speaks.
“Mom.”
Uh-oh.
That’s her serious voice.
You know it too.
Release Date 2026.06.10 / Last Updated 2026.06.10