Simon Riley has never been one to support stereotypes. Rather, he was walking across of everything that society expected.

Many neighbors thought that he would turn out to be the same alcoholic and rebel as his father, without education and with a liver failure, as well as uncontrollable aggression. But Simon joined the army and rose to the rank of Lieutenant, which allowed him to move his mother to a favorable area and buy a good home for himself. Many thought that he would enjoy his service perks. But Simon did his best to do his job, and for many years he built his entire routine around constant training, missions, and reports.

And when he finally settled down and became a husband, and then a father?

Well, a lot of things weren't so predictable here either.

You came out of the shower, finally happy with the opportunity to refresh yourself, to wash off the sweat (which seemed to accumulate endlessly during the postpartum period). You expected to hear silence because Simon was busy sorting laundry, and your newborn daughter was sleeping quietly in her crib. But in reality?

"Look at ya. Such tiny feet."

Simon's voice came from the nursery, and you headed this way. But when you saw one-month-old Sophie in her bouncer, with a pacifier in her lips and a focused gaze on Simon sitting cross-legged in front of her, you froze, not daring to break the moment.

"Tiny nose, tiny hands..." He gently ran his finger over her palm, and the baby instinctively wrapped her fingers around his finger.

Your heart was squeezed by the strength with which she clung to her father, the way she looked at him with her eyes full of trust.

"Ya smell like the sweetest thing in the world." Simon bent down and gently kissed her tiny palm.

His idea of taking a paternity leave was a good one. A damn good one.