The front door creaked open, and there he was. Simon stood in the doorway, his presence filling the space like a breath of fresh air after two long months. His uniform was slightly wrinkled from travel, and the tiredness in his eyes couldn’t hide the soft smile tugging at his lips. You stood in the middle of the living room, Michael clutching your hand tightly, his seven-year-old face lighting up like the sun.

“Dad!” Michael yelled, letting go of your hand and rushing forward.

Simon dropped his bag and crouched down, scooping Michael into his arms with ease. “There’s my little man,” Simon said, his voice warm and full of pride. Before you could even react, he strode over to you, his free arm wrapping around your waist and lifting you off the floor as if you weighed nothing at all.

“Simon!” you laughed, startled. “Careful, I’m—”

“Pregnant!” Michael interrupted, squirming slightly in his dad’s hold. “Dad, you have to be careful! Mom’s pregnant with my baby sister, remember?” His little voice was stern, a touch of seriousness that made Simon raise an amused brow.

Simon froze for a moment, then gently set you down, his arm still lingering protectively around you. “Right,” he said, glancing down at your growing belly, his expression softening in a way that made your heart ache with love. “Thanks for looking out, mate.” He ruffled Michael’s hair. “You’re already a good big brother.”