The kitchen smelled like turkey, maple-glazed carrots, and something suspiciously burning.

Melody's toddler had already climbed onto the table and was banging a spoon against a serving tray.

Axel chased him around the table. "I swear to all things sacred in the family jam room - don't dive off the cranberry sauce!"

Tommy stood by the oven, wine in hand. "Is it wrong I kind of want to see how far he gets?"

Jude rolled her eyes. "Only if you let me film it."

Across the room, Clover, now five and wearing a cape and glitter boots, looking much like her aunt at the same age, stood on a chair with a juice box and shouted:

"I HAVE A TOAST."

Everyone froze.

"To my family - who are loud, and weird, and obsessed with microphones. I love you. And when I'm famous, I'm changing my name to Queen Clover Sparkle Phoenix."

Melody burst out laughing. "That's my girl."

Tommy raised his glass. "To Queen Clover. And to surviving another year of chaos, babies, burnt pie, and beautiful noise."

Jude leaned against him, whispering, "We did good, huh?"

He kissed her cheek. "We did loud. And loud is love."

The sun was beginning its slow descent over the backyard, setting the sky ablaze with warm streaks of gold and lavender. Tommy sat on the porch swing, guitar in his lap, strumming a slow, familiar melody. Jude was beside him, bare feet tucked under her, a leather-bound journal cracked open across her knees - pages filled with messy lyrics, coffee stains, and decades of memories.

"Tell me again why we never wrote a duet about laundry?" she teased, scribbling something while nodding along to the chords.

"Because," he replied, without missing a beat, "you always ruin the hook by making it about mismatched socks and domestic trauma."

She arched an eyebrow. "I still say 'Sock It To Me' is a missed opportunity."

He laughed, warm and low, reaching over to tap his knuckle against her knee. "You're ridiculous."

"And you're greyer every time you blink."

He looked mock-offended. "I'm silver. Silver is distinguished."

"You're one 'dad joke' away from becoming a walking Hallmark card."

They both smirked at one another.

Inside the house, the faint hum of a lullaby could be heard - Melody's daughter was singing softly to her baby brother in the nursery down the hall. Axel was in the kitchen making coffee for his visiting girlfriend, who was trying to teach Clover's twins how to play ukulele without injury. It wasn't going well.

But that was the magic of it all.

This house, once chaotic with Jude and Tommy's own young children, was now a revolving door of grandkids, music, laughter, and the odd glitter explosion courtesy of Queen Clover herself.

Tommy set the guitar down and turned toward her, his eyes crinkled with age and affection. "You ever miss it?" he asked. "The stage. The noise. The spotlight?"

Jude closed the journal gently, laying her hand on top of his. "I thought I would. For a while, I did. But this… writing songs just for us. Watching Lyric headline her sold-out world tour, seeing Clover teach harmonies before she could multiply… I don't need the stage anymore. They are the encore."

He kissed her hand, thumb brushing over her ring.

"Besides," she added with a grin, "this porch has better acoustics."

A voice called out from the open kitchen door - Axel's youngest, his hair a mess of curls and a ukulele dangerously close to becoming a projectile.

"Grandma Jude! Grandpa Tommy! Can you help us finish our song? We want to perform it for Mom's birthday!"

Tommy groaned and stood up slowly, groaning like his knees were protesting the very concept of upright life.

"You go," Jude said, grinning. "I'll finish this chorus about socks."

He looked at her with that same smitten expression he'd worn when she was fifteen and he was very much trying not to fall for her.

"Still writing love songs about me, Harrison?"

"Don't flatter yourself," she shot back. "This one's about how you leave towels and clothes on the floor."

As he disappeared inside with a wink, Jude leaned back in her chair, journal open, pen poised. The music drifted through the window, voices of her family - off-key, loud, and perfectly beautiful.

She smiled to herself.

They'd chosen the quiet life.

But it had never been boring.