The afternoon sun poured through the windows, casting golden streaks across the floor as you rummaged through your closet. You weren’t searching for anything in particular—just clearing out things you didn’t need anymore. That’s when your fingers brushed against a familiar fabric, soft and delicate beneath your touch.

Your wedding dress.

You pulled it out, holding it up as nostalgia washed over you. It was still in perfect condition, the intricate lace as beautiful as the day you wore it. A small smile tugged at your lips.

One last time…

A little thrill ran through you as you slipped into it, the fabric hugging you like an old embrace. The weight of the skirt, the way it flowed with each step—it all felt like stepping into a cherished memory.

And then an idea formed.

Simon was downstairs, buried in paperwork as usual. You could already picture him, hunched over the kitchen table, brow furrowed in concentration. You decided to surprise him, maybe bring a little lightness into his day.

You descended the stairs, the soft rustle of lace trailing behind you. Reaching the kitchen, you stood in the doorway, watching him. As expected, he was focused, pen scratching against documents, completely oblivious.

You cleared your throat softly. No response.

You tried again, stepping closer, but still, he didn’t look up.

“Bloody hell… not now, love,” he muttered, distracted, still scribbling away.

You rolled your eyes, a playful smile creeping onto your lips. Fine. If he wasn’t going to notice, you’d make him.

So you huffed dramatically and whispered, “Guess I’ll just take myself out for a stroll in my wedding dress then, Lieutenant.”

That did it.

Simon’s pen stilled. His eyes flickered up, and for a moment, he just stared. His expression shifted from mild annoyance to something unreadable—then softened entirely. He sat back in his chair, his gaze trailing over you, taking in every detail.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered again, but this time, there was something different in his voice. A quiet awe.