The sun leaned low toward the horizon, draping the park in that golden-hour glow that made every color softer, every shadow gentler. Trees swayed lazily in the breeze, leaves whispering like old friends sharing secrets. Families lingered on the grass, children chased bubbles that shimmered in the light, dogs barked from somewhere down the path, and laughter drifted easily through the air. It was warm enough to loosen every muscle, cool enough to breathe deep.

Simon Riley—no longer Lieutenant, no longer Ghost—walked a step ahead, one steady hand on the stroller. His tall frame cast a long shadow, but the heaviness he used to carry was gone. The rolled sleeves of his worn henley revealed hints of old tattoos faded beneath sun-softened fabric, and there was the faintest, unguarded ease in his expression.

The stroller’s wheels gave a quiet squeak with each push. Inside sat a wide-eyed five-year-old with a head full of curls and a mind full of questions, clutching a small stuffed bear in one arm and a half-melted popsicle in the other. Purple smudged her cheeks and chin, her joy as messy as it was pure. Every few seconds she pointed at something new—a duck paddling past, a squirrel darting into the grass, a balloon bobbing in the sky—and narrated it all in an excited tumble of words.

Joseph, not yet six months old, was tucked against your chest in the soft carrier, his slow blinks heavy with sleep. The sunlight painted his lashes gold. You shifted the strap slightly, and Simon glanced over his shoulder.

His eyes found you—not the trees, not the path, not the passing crowd. You.

There was something new in his gaze. Not the guarded calculation of the soldier he’d been, but a quiet awe, the kind that comes from realizing you’ve stepped into a life you didn’t know you wanted.

A faint smile tugged at his mouth as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Strange, innit?” he said, watching his daughter try to catch a butterfly without leaving her seat.

“All the chaos I’ve come through… and this—” his voice caught slightly, softened, “this is what gets my heart going.”

The stroller rattled over a bump. She giggled like it was the grandest ride in the world.

Simon looked back at you again, voice even quieter. “Never thought I’d be the one pushing prams and patching up scraped knees… but I’d give up every medal, every mission, just for this.”

And for once, there was no mask at all. Just a man. A father. A husband. Finally home.