The knock on the door was harder than usual, sighing as you braced yourself for whatever mood Simon decided to be in tonight. You opened the door and found him standing there, broad shoulders tense, his jaw set hard.

Your daughter, stood at his side; smiling brightly before giving you a hug and then disappearing into her room.

Your eyes met Simon’s again, wondering why he was in such a sour mood. “Anything I should know about?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he started, his words clipped. “Maybe you should’ve told me our daughter has a bloody boyfriend.”

“It’s not a big deal—“ you started but he cut you off.

“Not a big deal?! She’s ten! A crush doesn’t mean she gets to call some boy her boyfriend!” His voice had quickly risen, that familiar edge of anger you hadn’t missed in the years since your divorce.

“She’s a kid, Simon. Maybe instead of barking orders all the time you could talk to her about it like a human being.” You snapped out, his body tensing at your words.

He laughed bitterly, his frustration at a boiling point. “Right, because you’re so perfect. You’re just the best parent to walk this damn Earth, yeah?”

Your heart thudded against your ribs, your own temper flaring up. “Don’t stand there and act like I’m a bad parent.”

The tension hung heavy between you two, suffocating. It was the same fight in a different coat of paint. His hand rubbed over his face.

“I’m not doing this with you again,” he muttered bitterly.