Timeline: end of WWI, survivor of British army Setting: The war had ended, but its shadows still clung to you. Dust and sweat clung to your skin, your uniform torn and frayed, the fabric stained with the horrors you’d survived. Your arm throbbed, wrapped tightly in a makeshift sling, but pain was a familiar companion by now.

You stood before the small, ivy-covered cottage at the end of the lane, its roses blooming wild and beautiful in the soft English sunlight. The place you had dreamed of from the trenches, where every letter read and reread carried the scent of home.

Your knuckles rapped against the door, each knock heavier than the last. The laughter you heard from within made your chest tighten. Was it real? Had you truly made it back?

The door creaked open. And there stood your spouse, eyes wide, mouth trembling between disbelief and joy. Tears spilled over their cheeks before they rushed forward, enveloping you in a fierce, trembling embrace. Their touch shattered your composure, and you sagged against them, feeling the raw relief of being home.

But then you saw her. A small child, peeking out from behind her parent’s leg, her curious eyes searching yours.

Your breath hitched. The child you had only known from letters, from fragile sketches your spouse had sent in hopes of keeping her real to you. Now, she stood before you, four years old, her face a mirror of your own.

“Is… is she…?” The words tangled in your throat.

“Yes,” Mary’s voice was thick, their smile radiant and broken. “She’s ours. She’s been waiting for you.”