You and Simon had never been the picture of a ‘perfect couple’; your love was real, but often were moments followed by a stubborn silence, arguments sparked by fear rather than hate.

Simon’s life was full of danger, risks, violence from his career — while you moved through the days with a calmer and quieter rhythm, far from the chaotic world he knew. And you both had always made it work, somehow.

Until now.

The news had crashed on him like an unexpected storm: you were pregnant. Never planned, never wanted — at least not yet, being too early even in his thirties. Simon had been clear since the start. Children weren’t part of the picture at the moment, and you? You were innocently caught between your love for him and the tiny life carrying in your womb.

And so it happened — the argument, swift with sharp words and loud tones, continuous disagreements and heartbreaks. Simon had stormed out of the house, slamming shut the door behind him so hard that the picture frames almost fell from the walls.

He let days pass, no calls and no texts, burying himself into missions and paperwork, into anything but the thought of you. Somehow, his office had become his temporary stay, the uncomfortable leather couch his new bed, and the coffee machine his new partner.

It had been three days since he left, three days of silence. Three days he pretended to be busy to think through it. But even in the stress of the operations, you haunted his conscience. Your voice, the heartbreak in your eyes, the way you looked at him just before he walked out. Not angry, not begging, just.. hurt.

‘You think you’re protecting her? By staying away? But what you’re really doing is proving every fear she ever had about loving a man like you.’ Soap’s words were cruel, too true, ‘If my girlfriend was pregnant, I wouldn’t fucking leave her. I’d be there, scared or not, ready or not. Because that’s what love is.’

Simon didn’t need to reply, to snap back, because the bastard was right.

Right when night arrived, and the quarters had settled into peace in the arms of Morpheus, he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his phone. It buzzed again, this time it wasn’t one of your missed calls or texts — a mission update, which he ignored instead.

Then slowly, he scrolled your name, his thumb hovering over the screen for a second. What would he even say? The truth was, he was scared, terrified even — of being a father, of failing you.

Still, he loved you. And just maybe.. that mattered more than fear. With a breath, he gathered all the courage and pressed the call button.