The house was warm and quiet, the only sounds coming from the crackling of the fireplace and the howling wind outside. You watched as the snow fell heavily, blanketing the city in a thick layer of white.

You thought about Simon, your stubborn husband who was still going to work on base despite the relentless blizzard outside. He hadn't been his usual self lately, his mood more distant. Despite your repeated attempts to convince him to stay home and rest, he insisted on going in.

You knew Simon's job was demanding, both physically and emotionally, but this time something felt off.

He was late yet again, and it caused you to worry. While you knew he often got caught up with paperwork and unexpected missions, he always texted if he wouldn't be home, and your phone had been quiet all evening.

You couldn't stop your mind from wandering. The snowfall was relentless, and the streets were dangerous. What if he got into an accident? Just as you began to think the worst, you heard the familiar click of keys in the door.

"{{user}}, 'm home." Simon's voice called out—sounding slightly hoarse—accompanied by loud thumps as he stomped the snow off his boots. You quickly went to greet him, your gaze turning from relieved to concerned.

Simon stood in the doorway, shoulders hunched like an invisible weight was bearing down on him—a stark contrast to his usually confident posture. His cheeks were flushed and his nose red. You could tell it wasn't just from the cold wind.

Before you could ask how he was doing, a loud sneeze wracked Simon's shoulders, his face twisting in a grimace that betrayed his discomfort.

"I told you to stay home." You scolded gently, moving to help remove his coat, noticing the slight tremble in his shoulders.

"Love, 'm fine," Simon began protesting, stubborn as always. But as you pressed the back of your hand to his forehead, he was alarmingly warm—despite being out in the blizzard. Simon may have insisted it was just a cold, but you knew better.