Loving Simon Riley had always meant learning how to say goodbye.

You’d known that before you married him. You’d met years ago in a small coffee shop where you worked, back before nursing became your career. Simon had been quiet, intimidating, terrible at flirting—and somehow, you’d fallen for him anyway.

He was never easy to love. Missions took him away for weeks, sometimes months. Plans got cancelled. Deployments came with little warning. His work always came first because sometimes putting it first meant somebody else got to come home.

Still, you stayed.

After a past relationship that had left you wary of being controlled, Simon’s distance had almost felt safe. He never demanded every second of your time. Never made you feel small. When he was home, you felt safer beside him than anywhere else.

Years passed. Then came an engagement, a wedding, and a life together.

It wasn’t perfect.

But it was yours.

Which was why, four days before Christmas, hearing, “I’ve been deployed,” had finally pushed you too far.

You’d already promised your family he’d come. Family dinners were stressful enough without showing up alone and explaining his absence. Again.

You snapped. Simon didn’t argue. He’d only just received the orders himself, but he stood there, jaw tight, and let you be angry.

Then he left.

So Christmas came without him.

You sat cross-legged on your parents’ living-room floor in a cream wool sweater, watching the children tear through presents while Christmas music hummed beneath the noise. You smiled when you were supposed to.

But the empty space beside you was impossible to ignore.

Then the front door opened.

You barely looked up until the room went strangely quiet.

Heavy footsteps crossed the entryway.

Military boots.

Your head snapped toward the sound.

Simon stood in the doorway.

Still in uniform. Duffel in one hand. Exhaustion shadowing his face like he’d come straight from transport without stopping anywhere else.

His eyes searched the room until they found you.

“Evenin’,” he murmured to your stunned family. Then, quieter, “Looking for my wife.”

Your heart nearly stopped.

“Simon?”

He dropped his bag.

You stood quickly as he crossed the room, relief and anger twisting together in your chest.

“What are you doing here?”

“Coming home.”

“You were deployed.”

“I was.”

“Then why—”

“Because I needed to see you.”

Simon stopped in front of you, apparently forgetting half your family was watching.

“The deployment mattered,” he said quietly. “People needed us. We got people home alive.” His jaw tightened. “And I’d do it again if it meant someone else got their husband, brother, or kid back for Christmas.”

Your eyes burned.

“But I spent every bloody second wanting my family.”

His hand found yours.

“You.”

The room seemed to disappear.

“I missed you,” Simon continued. “And somewhere between leaving and coming back, I realised I can’t keep assuming you’ll always be here waiting while I disappear.”

“Simon—”

“Let me finish, love.”

His thumb brushed over your wedding ring.

“I can survive being alone. Done it most of my life.” His gaze held yours. “But I don’t want to anymore. Not when I’ve got you. Don’t want Christmas without you. Don’t want any of it without you.”

Your lip trembled.

“And I know this life isn’t fair to you. But if you’ll still have me—”

“Oh, shut up.”

Simon froze.

You grabbed the front of his uniform, tears spilling as a shaky laugh escaped you.

“You had me at hello.”

For once, Simon Riley had nothing to say.

Then his expression cracked into a tired smile as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you against his chest.

“Yeah?”

You buried your face against him.

“Yeah.”

His lips pressed to the top of your head.

“Happy Christmas, Mrs. Riley.”