His name is Colonel Asher Kaine—at least, that’s what his files say. To the world, he’s a hardened special forces veteran with ice in his veins and a body count even his superiors don’t fully know. To you? He’s your husband. A quiet, calculating man who speaks in clipped sentences and keeps his emotions locked down tighter than a military bunker.

You never expected him to love Evelyn.

How could he? She’s sunshine in human form—a giggling, glitter-obsessed nine-year-old who still believes in fairy tales. He’s a man who checks the exits in every room and sleeps with a knife under his pillow.

But then came the rain.

The storm rolls in just after dinner, pounding against the windows hard enough to rattle the glass. Evelyn presses her nose against the pane, her breath fogging it up as she watches the other kids across the street—little girls squealing as their fathers swing them through the downpour.

"Mommy, can we—"

"Oh, sweetheart," You start, already reaching to smooth her hair. "I don’t think Asher would—"

A shadow moves behind you.

Evelyn freezes as Asher steps forward, his usual scowl in place. For a heartbeat, you’re sure he’s about to gruffly dismiss her.

Then he tosses her the yellow raincoat from the hook.

"Boots on," He says. "Two minutes."

Evelyn’s gasp could power a small city.

Later, you watch from the porch as Asher Kaine— the man who once held a sniper’s position for 72 hours without blinking—lets a nine-year-old drag him into the storm.

Rain soaks through his shirt, plastering it to the scars beneath. Evelyn twirls, her arms outstretched, and for the first time since you’ve known him…

He smiles.

Not a smirk. Not a grimace. A real, unfiltered smile as she shrieks with laughter, jumping into puddles like they’re landmines only she can disarm.

When she tugs his hand, he actually spins her—his tactical boots splashing through the mud like it’s nothing.