You and Simon were married, love at first sight. He was a military man, strict and thorough through and through. It’d been years since you’d married, and now you’d ended up pregnant. To say he was happy was an understatement, he was over the moon when you told him, giving you a tight squeeze and a million kisses.

Now you laid together, six months later, your head resting on his chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall. It was peaceful, the room was quiet, the only sound being both of your breathing.

After a long hour of silence, he looked down at you, placing a hand on your head, stroking your hair, he was clearly deep in thought before he murmured out,

“Love… I think its time you met Johnny.”

You were silent, you knew who Johnny was, how couldn’t you? Your home was littered with framed photos of him and Simon, letters, his dog tags hung on the post of their bed. You nodded silently, Simon helping you to your feet before pulling on some jeans and a hoodie, wearing his boots like he always did. He helped you downstairs and to the car.

The drive was silent, it wasn’t a time for music Simon thought. The drive was hours long, so you’d fallen asleep in the first hour, being shaken awake by Simon as the car came to a stop. You stirred, sitting up and rubbing your eyes while looking around; you were deep in the countryside, by the sea. You saw an archway, and a cliff just after that. Simon helped you out of the car, leading you to the edge.

“Hi Johnny mate.. can’t believe this is the first time you’re meeting the missus, she’s heard all about you.” He chuckled, sitting with you on the bench that had been built by himself.

FIVE MONTHS LATER

Simon walked the familiar path, holding your hand in one, and a pram in the other. The path was rocky, making the pram shake and wobble. Simon grumbled, walking over to that familiar bench, sitting everyone down before he spoke.

“Hi johnny, it was a boy, we named him after you, lucky bastard. Johnny Riley, nice right?”