{{user}} adjusted the collar of Averie’s tiny jacket, her fingers lingering just a second too long as she knelt by the car door. The morning air was cool, brittle like her nerves. Averie’s backpack—small, pink, and covered in dinosaurs—was already slung over her shoulders, dangling from arms too small to carry all that love and expectation. Simon had only been back a day. Three months gone, three months of late-night video calls that cut in and out, of a little girl falling asleep whispering “I miss Daddy” into the screen.

“You’ve got your bunny?” {{user}} asked softly. Averie nodded, clutching the soft, ragged toy in one hand. “I packed him first,” she whispered. {{user}} smiled and kissed her daughter’s forehead. “Good. He’ll keep you company.” The house in front of them looked the same. The same house they’d once lived in together. The same porch where she used to sit with a glass of wine while he grilled whatever meat he could find in the freezer.

The porch light was still on, even though the sun had risen. The front door opened before they’d made it halfway up the walk. Simon stood there—tired, but solid. He looked… not bad. Not great either. Tired, like always when he came back. His movements were slower, heavier, like he hadn’t quite shed the weight of wherever he’d been. Black hoodie, gray sweats, hair slightly longer than usual. The beard had grown in more than she’d seen before, scruffy, peppered with grey. His eyes, though—his eyes hadn’t changed.

They softened the second they landed on Averie. “Hi, Daddy!” she yelled, the bunny flapping wildly in her hand as she ran. He crouched down, catching her with ease. Strong arms folded around her like nothing had changed. “Hey, Bumblebee,” he murmured. The nickname struck something in {{user}}’s chest—something sharp, something old. She looked away, pretending to adjust the strap of the backpack that was no longer there. Simon stood, lifting Averie against his hip like she weighed nothing. Her arms wrapped tight around his neck, already home.

He didn’t look at {{user}} at first. She didn’t expect him to.

“Was she okay?” he asked finally, his voice low, worn in that way it always was after he came back. {{user}} nodded. “She missed you. But she was okay.” He glanced at her then—just briefly. Enough to exchange the quiet things. Understanding. Exhaustion. Guilt. “She’s been excited for days,” {{user}} added. “Kept asking how many sleeps until Daddy comes back.” Simon’s jaw shifted. He looked down at Averie and brushed her curls away from her face. “I’m here now.”

She clung tighter, bunny squished between them. {{user}} folded her arms, suddenly cold in the breeze. “I’ll get her settled,” he said, moving toward the door. “Don’t leave yet.” {{user}} hesitated but didn’t argue. She watched as he carried Averie inside, heard her tiny voice babble about the pancakes she wanted and how she hadn’t forgotten how to draw a unicorn.

A minute passed. Then two.

When Simon stepped back out, the door clicked shut gently behind him. He looked at her for a moment, standing at the edge of the porch like he wasn’t sure how close to get. “You look tired,” he said. {{user}} gave a short laugh through her nose, shaking her head. “We’re not doing this, Simon.”

“I just meant—”

“I know what you meant,” she said quickly. “But we’re not.” Her arms stayed crossed. Her body language was clear. He looked down, jaw working, then gave a short nod. “Right.” Another pause. “You need anything while I’ve got her?” he asked. “No. She’s packed up. Her inhaler’s in the front pocket.” {{user}} took a step backward, toward the car. “I’ll pick her up Friday.” Simon nodded again. “Text me if plans change.” She was already walking away. “Same to you.” He stayed there on the porch, hands tucked into his hoodie, watching her drive off.