The house was quiet in the early morning, the kind of quiet that only came after years of noise, radios and orders. No alarms. No missions. No urgency. Just peace. Simon stood at the kitchen window with a mug of coffee cradled in his hands, watching thick snowflakes drift lazily out of the grey sky. They landed softly on the fence, on the garden path, on the empty fields stretching out beyond the property. For the first time in his adult life, he had nowhere to be. He smiled faintly to himself. “{{user}},” he called. “You’ll want to see this.” Footsteps padded down the hallway. {{user}} appeared in the doorway, wrapped in one of his old hoodies, hair loose around her shoulders, sleep still clinging to her smile. She crossed the kitchen and leaned into his side, following his gaze out the window. “Oh,” she breathed. “It’s snowing.” “Proper snow,” Simon replied. “Not that half hearted stuff.” She laughed softly. “On Christmas week.” “Figures,” he said. “World’s finally being kind.” Behind them came an excited thump, thump, thump of paws on the wooden floor.

Their puppy skidded into the kitchen, ears too big for his head, tail already wagging like it was powered by something internal and unstoppable. The German Shepherd had only been with them a few weeks, all legs and curiosity and sharp little teeth and he froze the moment he noticed the white world outside the glass door. {{user}} knelt instantly. “You see that, Bandit?” The puppy tilted his head, staring out at the falling snow like it had personally challenged him. Simon chuckled. “First winter.” “And first snow,” {{user}} added fondly. They hadn’t planned on getting a dog so soon after retiring, or at least that’s what Simon had told himself but the idea hadn’t lasted long. Too much quiet. Too much empty space in the house. The shelter had been {{user}}’s idea. The German Shepherd pup had been Simon’s undoing. He’d knelt in front of the kennel, the puppy pressing his nose against the bars, tail wagging so hard his whole body shook. Now the puppy sat at the door, whining softly, nose fogging the glass.

“Well,” {{user}} said, standing and pulling on her coat. “Guess we’d better introduce him.” They bundled up quickly and Simon scooped the puppy up easily, his weight solid and warm in his arms. “You ready for this?” he murmured to the dog. Bandit licked his chin enthusiastically. Outside, the cold hit sharp and clean. {{user}} opened the door while Simon stepped onto the snow covered grass and set Bandit down carefully. The reaction was immediate. Bandit froze mid step, lifting one paw like it had offended him. He stared down at the snow, then back up at Simon, deeply betrayed. {{user}} burst out laughing. The puppy sniffed the snow, sneezed hard, then shook his head, sending powder flying everywhere. Ghost crouched down, resting his arms on his knees. “It’s alright, mate. It’s just cold.” Bandit tested it again, one step, then another and suddenly something clicked.

He bolted. Straight through the garden, plowing through the snow like it was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He tried to catch the flakes falling from the sky, slid sideways and tumbled head over tail before scrambling back up. {{user}} laughed so hard she had to hold onto Simon’s arm. “He thinks it’s alive.” Simon watched with quiet amusement. “Can’t say I blame him.” Bandit sprinted back toward them, tail wagging furiously, snow clinging to his muzzle and chest. He crashed gently into {{user}}’s legs, before taking off again in a blur of enthusiasm. {{user}} slipped her hand into Simons’s, squeezing lightly. “I still can’t believe this is us.” He squeezed back. “Retired. Married. Dog owners.” She smiled up at him. “You sound proud.” He was. He just didn’t say it often. They stood together as the snow fell heavier, the world muffled and soft around them. Bandit finally tired himself out, trotting back and plopping down between them with a dramatic huff. The snow kept falling. The house waited warm behind them. And for the first time in a long, long time, Christmas felt exactly right. Home.