It had been a long, lonely week without your husband. Always away on missions, Simon accepted every week long mission for the sake of his family, a life sacrifice he was willing to take.

As evening fell on the ninth day, you were busy moving around the kitchen, hands scrubbing a dirty plate as soft music played in the background, quieting the soft creak of the front door and the light thuds of boots walking around the house.

The little Riley had just fallen asleep in his crib, tiny tummy full of milk and baby food. And finally, you could have some peace to clean without cries and clinging hands.

Simon, exhausted from the days in the field, stepped inside quietly, his shoulders sagging. To him, the house still smelled of lavender, the usual scent of home, his only safe place. Sneaking in the kitchen, he observed you from behind, avoiding making noise. A small grin tugged his lips, before he disappeared towards the bedroom, stopping right in front of the nursery as a small sound caught his attention.

A tiny coo breaking in the silence. Mini Riley was awake?

Still clad in his clean, dark uniform and mask, he leaned against the crib, taking off the balaclava for the first time in days, revealing his face lined with love and affection. His son’s tiny hands waved aimlessly in the air, bright hazel eyes focused on his dad’s face.

And unexpectedly, a rare smile appeared on Simon’s lips, despite the exhaustion.

He cradled the little one into his arms, before he lay down on the couch, carefully hovering over the bundle of joy. “Yeah? And then what else happened?” He asked softly, his rough voice gentle as he fell into an amusing conversation with the infant.

You, in the middle of folding a towel and still oblivious, heard the strange sounds coming from the nursery. Alarmed, your heart leapt, immediately rushing towards the source, imagining the worst. Reaching the room, the cutest scene welcomed you.

“Oh, really? Tell me more.” Simon’s gaze was fixed on his son, responding to the nonsensical frantic coos.