Sorry its late and probably trash its been crazy busy lately
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The first thing you noticed when you woke that morning was the smell of coffee drifting through the flat. Warm sunlight slipped through the curtains in soft golden streaks while the quiet sound of movement came from the kitchen. For a moment you stayed curled beneath the blankets with your eyes closed, enjoying the rare peace that settled over the room.
Then you heard muffled whispering.
Your lips curved into a sleepy smile.
That alone already made the day feel special.
The past few months had been difficult for your family. Simon had spent more time away than at home and each deployment left a little more exhaustion resting on his shoulders. He never talked much about what happened overseas, but you could see it in the tired look behind his eyes and in the careful way he held your daughter whenever he returned.
Like he was reminding himself she was real.
Like he needed proof that something gentle still existed in the world.
You pushed yourself upright and glanced toward the clock beside the bed.
Much later than you usually slept.
Normally your daughter climbed into bed before sunrise demanding cartoons or breakfast or cuddles. The silence in the room felt suspicious enough to make you laugh quietly.
Something was definitely happening.
You slipped from the blankets and padded toward the bedroom door. Before your hand even touched the handle it swung open suddenly.
Your daughter stood there wearing pink pajamas covered in tiny clouds.
Behind her Simon loomed with one large hand resting lightly on her shoulder.
Your little girl grinned up at you with missing front teeth and excitement practically vibrating through her body.
She shoved a slightly crumpled card toward you.
Your chest tightened instantly.
Simon remained silent behind her but you caught the faint softness in his eyes.
You opened the card carefully.
Inside was a messy drawing done in bright marker. Three stick figures stood beneath a crooked yellow sun. One figure wore a skull mask.
Your daughter bounced on her feet proudly.
“Daddy helped me spell the words.”
You glanced lower and saw uneven writing across the bottom.
The emotion hit you harder than expected.
You crouched down and wrapped your daughter in a tight hug while she squealed happily.
Simon watched the two of you for a second before clearing his throat.
“There is breakfast too.”
You looked up at him with raised brows.
His expression turned almost defensive.
“Burned the first batch. Second one turned out alright.”
Your daughter grabbed your hand and tugged you toward the kitchen before Simon could say anything else.
The sight waiting there made warmth bloom through your chest.
The table held pancakes stacked unevenly beside strawberries and whipped cream. A vase filled with wildflowers sat in the middle next to another handmade card that was covered in glitter.
Simon leaned against the counter with crossed arms while watching nervously.
It was the same one he wore before difficult missions.
Like failure sat just around the corner waiting for him.
You walked over and pressed a kiss against his cheek.
His shoulders loosened slightly.
“Kid picked the flowers.”
“I picked the purple ones because they looked pretty like mummy.”
Your heart melted completely.
Breakfast turned into a mess of syrup covered fingers and laughter. Simon pretended to complain every time your daughter piled extra whipped cream onto his plate but he still ate every bite she handed him.
Watching them together always felt surreal.
Most people who met Simon Riley saw intimidation first.
They saw the towering soldier with cold eyes and a frightening reputation.
You saw the man who braided your daughters hair with awkward concentration.
The man who carried tiny hair ties in his pocket during grocery trips.
The man who checked beneath the bed for monsters every night despite claiming monsters were not real.
Your daughter adored him completely.
After breakfast Simon disappeared into the bedroom for several minutes. When he returned he carried his old camera in one hand.
Your daughter gasped dramatically.
“You said last year there were not enough photos of you with her.”
His gaze settled on you steadily.
“I remember everything you say.”
The simple honesty in his voice left you speechless.
Most people would never understand how deeply Simon loved.
He was not loud about it.
His love existed in quiet things.
Remembered conversations.
Warm hands finding yours during restless nights.
Coffee made exactly the way you liked it.
The side of the bed he always warmed before you climbed in.
He loved through actions.
And every action carried weight.
The three of you spent the next hour taking photos around the flat. Some were sweet while others dissolved into chaos almost immediately.
Your daughter insisted on balancing stuffed animals on Simons shoulders.
Simon endured it with the patience of a saint.
At one point she forced flower crowns onto both of you and declared everyone princesses.
Simon stared at you blankly while wearing tiny pink flowers in his hair.
You nearly laughed yourself breathless.
Your daughter planted both hands on her hips.
“No daddy you look magical.”
Simon sighed heavily like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.
Then he looked at her tiny determined face and gave up immediately.
By afternoon the three of you ended up walking through a nearby park with ice cream cones melting faster than anyone could eat them.
Your daughter ran ahead chasing pigeons while Simon stayed beside you.
His hand brushed yours before his fingers laced through them.
The contact felt grounding.
“You seem happier today.”
He stayed quiet for a moment.
Then he looked toward your daughter running across the grass.
“She deserves normal memories.”
Your chest tightened softly.
A faint shadow crossed his expression.
Simon rarely spoke about his childhood but the pieces you knew painted an ugly picture.
Mothers Day had never meant comfort for him growing up.
You squeezed his hand gently.
“You are giving her something you never had.”
His jaw shifted slightly.
“She gives me something too.”
“She makes the world quieter.”
Emotion rose suddenly in your throat.
Simon was not a man who spoke openly about feelings.
Every vulnerable sentence cost him something.
You leaned against his arm as the two of you walked slowly together.
“She loves you more than anything.”
A small almost invisible smile touched his mouth.
The evening settled softly around your family once you returned home.
Your daughter eventually fell asleep curled against Simon on the sofa while a movie played quietly in the background.
You stood in the kitchen doorway watching them.
Simon sat perfectly still beneath the warm light with one arm wrapped securely around her tiny body.
For the first time in weeks he looked peaceful.
You approached quietly and brushed your fingers through his hair.
His eyes opened instantly out of habit.
Then they softened when he saw you.
You laughed under your breath before lowering yourself carefully beside him.
Simon shifted enough for you to tuck yourself against his side without waking your daughter.
For several minutes silence settled comfortably around all three of you.
Then Simon spoke quietly.
The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache.
You rested your head against his shoulder.
“She is happy because of you.”
“You helped with that too.”
He shook his head faintly.
The shadows beneath his eyes were still there.
But there was warmth too.
A warmth that only existed when he looked at you and your daughter.
“You built it with me Simon.”
His gaze held yours for a long moment.
Then he leaned down carefully and kissed your forehead.
You closed your eyes briefly.
In another life perhaps Simon Riley would have become hard enough to shut the world out completely.
Maybe loneliness would have swallowed him whole.
Maybe he would have convinced himself he was only made for violence and war.
But that was not this life.
In this life he came home to tiny socks scattered across the floor.
To bedtime stories and pancake breakfasts.
To flower crowns and glitter covered cards.
To sleepy kisses and warm hands reaching for him in the dark.
To a daughter who thought he was magical.
Your daughter stirred slightly in her sleep before mumbling something incoherent against Simons chest.
He immediately looked down at her with quiet concern.
He nodded once but still adjusted the blanket around her more securely.
The sight made love swell painfully in your chest.
Simon glanced toward you again.
You looked between him and your sleeping daughter.
For a second he simply stared.
Like he did not quite know how to answer.
Then his hand found yours again.
His thumb brushed slowly across your knuckles.
And in the quiet glow of the living room surrounded by the family he never believed he would have Simon Riley finally smiled without restraint.
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