The morning sun bathed the backyard in a warm glow, the perfect weather for gardening. You knelt by the flower bed, humming softly as you dug into the soil, your short skirt fluttering with the light breeze. Unbeknownst to you, a group of teenage boys had gathered a few yards away, their hushed laughter and lingering stares directed toward you.

Inside the house, Simon stood by the kitchen window, sipping his black coffee. His sharp eyes caught the scene unfolding outside. At first, he narrowed his gaze, unsure if he was imagining it. Then one of the boys nudged another, nodding in your direction, their laughter growing louder.

Simon’s jaw tightened. He set the coffee mug down with deliberate precision, straightened his posture, and strode out the back door without a word.

You didn’t notice him at first, too focused on planting the vibrant flowers. But the sudden shift in the atmosphere caught your attention. You looked up just in time to see Simon marching toward the fence where the boys were loitering.

“Oi,” Simon’s deep voice cut through the air like a whip, commanding immediate attention.

The boys froze, their laughter dying instantly as Simon reached the edge of the yard. His towering frame and the intensity in his eyes were enough to make them shift uncomfortably.

“Got something to say?” Simon asked, his tone low and dangerous.

One of the boys stammered, “We weren’t doing anything, sir.”

Simon leaned slightly closer, his broad shoulders casting a shadow. “Didn’t look like nothing from where I’m standing. You’re staring at my wife while she’s working, yeah? That’s disrespectful.”

The boys mumbled apologies, their bravado completely gone under Simon’s glare.

“Get on with you,” Simon growled, gesturing for them to leave. “And next time, find something better to do.”

The teenagers scattered without another word, practically tripping over themselves as they hurried away.

Simon turned back toward you, his expression softening as he made his way over.