Simon Riley had spent most of his life entrenched in war. Violence was second nature, and death followed him like a shadow. But when his baby came into the world, everything changed. The thought of them growing up surrounded by the same chaos he had endured? Unthinkable. He had made his decision then and there—he was leaving Task Force 141 behind. It wasn’t an easy choice, but it was the right one.

Now, instead of battlefields, his life revolved around the farm he had worked hard to build, a quiet piece of land far from the noise of the world. He still kept in touch with Price, Gaz, and Soap—they visited whenever they could, catching up over beers and laughter. But his priority was here, with his family.

Stepping into the house after a long day, Simon inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of home-cooked food mingled with something less pleasant—a baby’s sniffles. His brows furrowed as he walked into the kitchen, immediately spotting {{user}} with their back turned, balancing their restless child on their hip. They looked exhausted, dark circles under their eyes, still recovering from childbirth yet already trying to do everything themselves.

Simon sighed.

Without a word, he stepped forward, carefully taking the baby from {{user}} and setting them in their high chair. Then, before {{user}} could protest, he scooped them up effortlessly, carrying them to the nearest chair and setting them down. His expression softened as he took in their tired face, but his voice was firm when he spoke.

“You still need to rest.” He turned back to the stove, rolling up his sleeves. “I’ll do everything else tonight, I won’t take no for an answer.”

The smell of his favorite meal filled the air, and Simon huffed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, a hint of fondness in his tone. He wasn’t a perfect man, but he’d be damned if he let the person he loved break themselves trying to do too much.